The Enchanted Burro 
 
THE ENCHANTED BURRO 
 
THE 
 
 ENCHANTED 
 BURRO 
 
 And Other Stories as I Have Known Them 
 From Maine to Chile and California 
 
 BY 
 CHARLES F. LUMMIS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 Strange Corners of Our Country, A Tramp Across the Continent, 
 
 Mexico Today, The Spanish Pioneers of America, My 
 
 Friend Will, Tha Gold Fish of Gran Chimu, 
 
 The Land of Poco Tlempo, Pueblo 
 
 Indian Folkstorics, 
 
 etc., etc. 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 WITH MANY NEW STORIES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 
Copyright, 1897, by Way & Williams 
 
 Copyright 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 1912 
 
 Published September, 1912 
 
 . 3F. 
 
To 
 
 AMADO 
 
 and 
 AMADO 
 
 The name that stood for such a friend is tall 
 
 enough for two 
 My oldest on the old frontier, my newest on the 
 
 new. 
 Nor is it on my heart to pray my baby^s feet be 
 
 spared 
 So rugged paths (companioned so) as once his 
 
 father fared. 
 
 251145 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE ENCHANTED BURRO (New Mexico) 1 
 
 THE MUMMY-MINER (Peru) . . 25 
 
 A BOY OF THE ANDES (Peru) . . 43 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE MISTI (Peru) . 65 
 
 THE WITCH DEER (New Mexico) . 85 
 
 FELIPE s SUGARING-OFF (Peru) . 99 
 
 ANDRES, THE ARRIERO (Bolivia) . Ill 
 
 OUR YELLOW SLAVE . . . 141 
 
 THE PEAK OF GOLD (New Mexico) . 161 
 
 PABLO S DEER HUNT (New Mexico) . 179 
 
 CANDELARIA S CURSE (New Mexico) . 203 
 
 THE HABIT OF THE FRAILE (Peru) . 219 
 
 THE GREAT MAGICIAN . . . 241 
 
 THE SILVER OMELET (Mexico) . 257 
 
 A DUEL IN THE DESERT (California) . 275 
 A RASTLE WITH A WILDCAT 
 
 (New England) . 285 
 
 A TAME DEER (California) . . 299 
 THE REBEL DOUBLE RUNNER 
 
 (New England) . 315 
 THE BALSA BOY OF LAKE TITI-CACA 
 
 (Bolivia) . 333 
 
Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 THE ENCHANTED BURRO . Frontispiece 
 
 LELO 17 
 
 THE HOME OF THE SOROCHE . . 55 
 IN TA-BI-RA . . . . .179 
 
 "THE BONES OF TA-BI-RA" . . . 186 
 
 THE PATIO PROCESS AT GUANAJUATO . 257 
 WILDCAT AND OWL IN DEATH-STRUGGLE 280 
 
Foreword 
 
 THE Truly Clever know enough to 
 make books of a country by a few 
 days of Pullman and hotel or even 
 by skimming: the public library at home, 
 without the bother and expense of travel 
 at all. 
 
 But the few Dullards now left can arrive 
 in Knowledge only by plodding-; not "as 
 on wings of eagles" and Inspiration, but by 
 the drudgery of learning. 
 
 It has taken more than twenty-five ardu 
 ous years to beat into me what little I hope 
 I know about the Frontiers of the Three 
 Americas. To learn several new languages 
 and digest innumerable old chronicles was 
 but one side of the task: everywhere, and 
 among many peoples, I had to win slow 
 adoption from Stranger to Friend ; to travel 
 footsore or saddleweary; to share their 
 beds, their feasts, their famine, their 
 speech, their ideas, their pleasures and 
 
their hardships in fact, to live their life. 
 And it was Life Human and warm, even 
 at its rudest. 
 
 Part of these stories, under this same 
 title, were published in 1897 by an amateur 
 firm which very presently succumbed 
 post hoc, indeed, but I trust noipropter. So 
 the book has been out of print for a dozen 
 years. It was very gently entreated by 
 critics and public while its young* god 
 fathers lasted. 
 
 I now add five stories and 4,000 miles of 
 geography clear back to my venerable 
 boyhood. Born and bred a Yankee, I 
 Escaped In Time (at 23), and have become 
 a much better Indian, New Mexican, Mex 
 ican, Peruvian, Californian and composite 
 Paisano of the Frontier. It may be that 
 other graduate New Englanders will find 
 here some echo to memory of what they 
 and I used to think we knew of the Stern 
 and Rockbound, so long ago; and that the 
 Unremoved will pardon my lapses, in view 
 of my enduring Alibi. 
 
 As to anything this side of New England, 
 I won t "either apologize or fight." This 
 part is not remote and precarious memory 
 of the only true Golden Age the Age when 
 we Haven t Any but the indelible auto 
 graph of thirty older years, scarred and 
 
wrinkled upon me inside and out. It can 
 take care of itself. 
 
 Most of these stories, in both instances, 
 are of episodes in which I had some part. 
 Not all are "True Stories," but all are 
 truthful. I hope that makes them no duller 
 than if they had been guessed out of whole 
 cloth and innocence. 
 
 C. F. L. 
 
 Los ANGELES, CAL. 
 
The Enchanted Burro 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 ELO dropped the point of his heavy irri 
 gating 1 hoe and stood with chin dented 
 upon the rude handle, looking- intently to the 
 east. Around his bare ankles the rill from 
 the acdquia* eddied a moment and then 
 sucked through the gap in the little ridge of 
 earth which bounded the irrigating bed. 
 The early sun was yellow as gold upon the 
 crags of the mesa\ that league-long front 
 of ragged cliffs whose sandstones, black- 
 capped by the lava of the immemorial Year 
 of Fire, here wall the valley of the Rio 
 Grande on the west. Where a spur of the 
 frowning Kumai runs out is a little bay in 
 the cliffs; and here the outermost fields of 
 Isleta were turning green with spring. The 
 young wheat swayed and whispered to the 
 water, whose scouts stole about amid the 
 stalks, and came back and called their fel 
 lows forward, and spread hither and yon, 
 
 * Ah-say-kee-ah. Irrigating ditch, 
 t May-sab. Table land. 
 
2 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 till every green blade was drinking- and the 
 tide beg-an to creep up the low boundaries 
 at either side. Up at the sluice g-ate a small 
 but eag-er stream was tumbling- from the 
 big-, placid ditch, and on it came till it struck 
 the tiny dam which closed the furrow just 
 beyond Lelo, and, turning, stole past him 
 ag-ain to join the rest amid the wheat. The 
 irrig-ating- bed, twenty feet square, filled 
 and filled, and suddenly the g-athered pud 
 dle broke down a barrier and came romp 
 ing- into the next bed without so much as 
 saying- "By your leave. " And here it was 
 not so friendly ; for, forg-etting" that it had 
 come only to bring- a drink, it went stam 
 peding- about, knocking- down the tender 
 blades and half covering- them with mud. 
 At sound of this, Lelo seemed suddenly to 
 waken, and lifting- with his hoe the few clods 
 which dammed the furrow, he dropped 
 them into the first g-ap, and jumping- into 
 the second bed repaired its barrier also 
 with a few strokes. Then he let in a g-en- 
 tler stream from the furrow. 
 
 " Poco, and I should have lost a bed, * he 
 said to himself, g-oodnaturedly . Bias always 
 took thing s easy, and I presume that is the 
 reason no one ever called him anything- but 
 Lelo* " Slow-poke " for Indian boys are 
 
 * Lay-lo. 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 3 
 
 as given to nicknames as are any others, and 
 the mote had stuck to him ever since its in 
 vention. He was rather slow this big, 
 powerful boy, with a round, heavy chin and 
 a face less clear-cut than was common in 
 the pueblo. Old Lipe had taken to wife a 
 Navajo captive, and all could see that the 
 boy carried upon his father s strong- frame 
 the flatter, more stolid features of his 
 mother s nomad people. 
 
 But now the face seemed not quite so 
 heavy; for again he was looking* toward the 
 pueblo and bending his head as one who 
 listens for a far whisper. There it came 
 again a faint, faint air which not one of 
 us could have heard, but to this Indian boy 
 it told of shouts and mingled wails. 
 
 "What will be?" cried Lelo, stamping 
 his hoe upon the barrier, and with unwonted 
 fire in his eyes. " For surely I hear the 
 voice of women lamenting, and there are 
 men s shouts as in anger. Something heavy 
 it will be and perhaps I am needed." 
 Splashing up to the ditch, he shut the gate 
 and threw down his hoe, and a moment 
 later was running toward Isleta with the 
 long, heavy, tireless stride that was the 
 jest of the other boys in the rabbit hunt, 
 but left Lelo not so very far behind them 
 after all. 
 
4 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 In the pueblo was, indeed, excitement 
 enough. Little knots of the swart people 
 stood here and there, talking- earnestly but 
 low; in the broad, flat plaza were many hur 
 rying to and fro; and in the street beyond 
 was a great crowd about a house whence 
 arose the long, wild wails of mourners. 
 
 " What is, tio Diego?" asked Lelo, stop 
 ping where a number of men stood in 
 gloomy silence. "What has befallen? For 
 even in the milpd* I heard the cries, and 
 came running to see." 
 
 "It is ill," answered the old man he had 
 addressed as uncle. " It seems that Those 
 Above are angry with us ! For this morn 
 ing the captain of war finds himself dead in 
 bed and scalped 1 And no tracks of man 
 were about his door." 
 
 "Ay, all is ill!" groaned a short, heavy- 
 set man, in a frayed blanket. " For yester 
 day, coming from the llano^ with my burro, % 
 I met a stranger a bdrbaro. And, blow 
 ing upon Paloma, he bewitched the poor 
 beast so that it sprang off the trail mnd was 
 killed at the bottom of the cliff. H lacked 
 only that ! Last month it was the raid of 
 the Cumanche; and, though we followed 
 
 *J/eeJ-pah. Field. fl/yah-no. Plain. 
 JThe quaint little Spanish-American donkey. Pro 
 nounced BOO-TO. 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 5 
 
 and slew many of the robbers and got back 
 many animals, yet mine were not found, 
 and this was the very last that remained 
 tome." 
 
 "Pero, Don Colas!" cried Lelo, "your 
 burro I saw this very morning- as I went to 
 the field before the sun. Paloma it was, 
 with the white face and the white hind foot 
 for do I not know him well? He was 
 passing- throug-h the bushes under the cliffs 
 at the point, and turned to look at me as I 
 crossed the fields below." 
 
 "Vayal" cried Nicolas, angrily. " Did 
 I not see him, with these my eyes, jump the 
 cliff of two hundred feet yesterday, and 
 with these my hands feel him at the foot 
 that he was dead? Go, with your stories of 
 a stupid, for " 
 
 But here the alg-uazil, who was one of the 
 group, interrupted: "Lelo has no fool s 
 eyes, and this thing- 1 shall look into. Since 
 this morning-, many thing s look suspicious. 
 Come, show me where fell thy burro for 
 to me all these doing-s are cousins one to 
 another." 
 
 Nicolas, with angry confidence, accom 
 panied the broad-shouldered Indian sheriff, 
 and their companions followed silently. 
 Across the adobe-walled gardens they 
 trudged, and into the sandy "draw," whose 
 
6 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 trail led along- the cliff and up among- the 
 jumble of fallen crag s at one side. 
 
 "Yonder he jumped off," said Colas, 
 
 "and fell " But even then he rubbed 
 
 his eyes and turned pale. For where he 
 had left the limp, bleeding- carcass of poor 
 Paloma only twenty-four hours before, 
 there was now nothing- to be seen. Only, 
 upon a rock, were a few red blotches. 
 
 "What is this!" demanded the alg-uazil, 
 sternly. "Hast thou hidden him away? 
 Claro that something- fell here for there is 
 blood and a tuft of hair upon yon stone. 
 But where is the burro?" 
 
 "How should I hide him, since he was 
 dead as the rocks? It is witchcraft, I tell 
 you for see 1 There are no tracks of him 
 g-oing- away, even where the earth is soft. 
 And for the coyotes and wildcats they 
 would have left his bones. The Gentile I 
 met he is the witch. First he g-ave the 
 evil eye to my poor beast, that it killed it 
 self; and now he has flown away in its shape 
 to do other ills." 
 
 " It can be so, " mused the sheriff, gravely; 
 " but in the meantime there is no remedy 
 I have to answer to the Fathers of Medicine 
 for you who bring- such stories of dead 
 burros, but cannot show them. For, I tell 
 you, this has something- to say for the deed 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 7 
 
 that was done in the pueblo this morning-. 
 Alcalaboz!" 
 
 Half an hour later, poor Nicolas was 
 squatted disconsolately upon the bare floor 
 of the adobe jail that simple prison from 
 which no one of the simple prisoners ever 
 thinks to dig- out. It is not so much the 
 clay wall that holds them, as the authority 
 of law, which no Pueblo ever yet questioned. 
 
 " Colas s burro " was soon in every 
 mouth. The strang-e story of its death 
 and its reappearance to Lelo were not to be 
 mocked at. So it used to be, that the ani 
 mals were as people; and every one knew 
 that there were witches still who took the 
 forms of brutes and flew by nig-ht to work 
 mischief. Perhaps it was some wizard of 
 the Cumanche who thus, by the aid of the 
 evil ones, was avenging- the long--haired 
 horse-thieves who had fallen at Tajique.* 
 And now Pascual, returning- from a ranch 
 across the river, made known that, sitting- 
 upon his roof all nig-ht to think of the year, 
 he had been aware of a burro that passed 
 down the street even to the house of the 
 war captain; after which he had noticed it 
 no more. Clearly, then! 
 
 Some even thoug-ht that Lelo should be 
 imprisoned, since he had seen the burro in 
 
8 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 the morning . And when, searching- anew, 
 they found in a splinter of the captain s 
 door a long-, coarse, gray hair, every man 
 looked about him suspiciously. But there 
 was no other clew save that Francisco, 
 the cleverest of hunters, called the officials 
 to a little corner of the street, where the 
 people had not crowded, and pointed to 
 some dim marks in the sand. 
 
 " Que importa? " said the gray haired 
 g-overnor, shrugging his shoulders, as he 
 leaned on his staff of office and looked close 
 ly. " In Isleta there are two thousand bur 
 ros, and their paths are everywhere." 
 
 " But see ! " persisted the trailer. " Are 
 they like this? For this brute was lame in 
 all the leg s, so that his feet fell over to the 
 inside a little, instead of coming- flatly down. 
 It will be the Enchanted Burro! " 
 
 "Ahul" cried Lelo,who stood by. "And 
 this morning- when I passed the burro of 
 Don Colas in the bushes, I saw that it was 
 laming- along- as if its leg s were stiff." 
 
 By now no one doubted that there was 
 witchcraft afoot, and the officials whose place 
 it is were taking- active measures to pre 
 serve the pueblo. The cacique sat in his 
 closed house fasting- and praying, with 
 ashes upon his head. The Cum-pa-huit-la- 
 wenwere running here and therewith their 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 9 
 
 sacred bows and arrows, prying- into every 
 corner, if haply they might find a witch. In 
 the house of mourning- the Shamans were 
 blinding- the eyes of the ghosts, that none 
 might follow the trail of the dead captain 
 and do him harm before he should reach 
 the safe other world. And in the medicine 
 house the Father of All Medicine was blow 
 ing the slow smoke across the sacred bowl, 
 to read in that magic mirror the secrets of 
 the whole world. 
 
 But in spite of everything, a curse seemed 
 to have fallen upon the peaceful town. Lu- 
 cero, the third assistant war captain, did 
 not return with his flock, and when search 
 ers went to the llano^ they found him lying 
 by a chapparo bush dead, and his sheep 
 gone. But worst of all, he was scalped, and 
 all the wisdom of that cunning head had 
 been carried away to enrich the mysterious 
 foe for the soul and talents of an Indian 
 go with his hair, according to Indian belief. 
 And in a day or two came running Antonio 
 Peralta to the pueblo, gray as the dead and 
 without his blanket. Herding his father s 
 horses back of the Accursed Hill, he sat 
 upon a block of lava to watch them. As 
 they grazed, a lame burro came around the 
 hill grazing toward them. And when it was 
 among them, they suddenly raised their 
 
io The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 heads in fear and snorted and turned to 
 run; but the burro, rising like a mountain 
 lion, sprang- upon one of them and fastened 
 on its neck, and all the herd stampeded to 
 the west, the accursed burro still perched 
 upon its victim and tearing- it. Ay ! a gray 
 burro,y0z>m?,* and with a white foot behind. 
 Antonio had his musket, but he dared not 
 fire after this witch beast. And here were 
 twelve more good horses gone of what the 
 Cumanche robbers had left. 
 
 By now the whole pueblo was wrought to 
 the highest tension. That frightful doubt 
 which seizes a people oppressed by super 
 natural fears brooded everywhere. No man 
 but was sure that the man he hated was 
 mixed up in the witchcraft; no man who 
 was disliked by any one but felt the finger 
 of suspicion pointing at him. People grew 
 dumb and moody, and looked at each other 
 from the corner of the eye as they passed 
 without even a kindly " Hina-kti-fiviu, 
 neighbor." As for work, that was almost 
 forgotten, though the fields cried out for 
 care. No one dared take a flock to the llano, 
 and few went even to their gardens. There 
 were medicine makings every night to ex 
 orcise the evil spirits, and the Shamans 
 worked wonders, and the medicine guards 
 
 *Ho-wzy-ro. Blaze-face. 
 
The Enchanted Burro. n 
 
 prowled high and low for witches. The 
 cacique sat always in his house, seeing 1 no 
 one, nor eating-, but torturing- his flesh for 
 the safety of his people. 
 
 And still there was no salvation. Not a 
 night went by but some new outrag-e befell. 
 Now it was a swooping away of herds, 
 now some man of the wisest and bravest 
 was slain and scalped in his bed. And al 
 ways there were no more tracks than those 
 of a burro, stiff-kneed, whose hoofs did not 
 strike squarely upon the ground. Many, 
 also, caught glimpses of the Enchanted 
 Burro as they peered at midnight from 
 their dark windows. Sometimes he plodded 
 mournfully along the uncertain streets, as 
 burros do; but some vowed that he came 
 down suddenly from the sky, as alighting 
 from a long flight. Without a doubt, old 
 Melo had seen the brute walk up the ladder 
 of Ambrosio s house the very night Am- 
 brosio was found dead in the little lookout 
 room upon his own roof. And a burro 
 which could climb a ladder could certain- 
 lyfly. 
 
 On the fourth day Lelo could stand it no 
 longer. "I am going to the field," he said, 
 " before the wheat dies. For it is as well 
 to be eaten by the witches now as that we 
 
12 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 should starve to death next winter, when 
 there will be nothing to eat." 
 
 "What folly is this?" cried the neigh 
 bors. "Does Lelo think he is stronger than 
 the ghosts? Let him stay behind those 
 who are more men." 
 
 But Lelo had another trait, quite as 
 marked as his slowness and good nature. 
 When his deliberate mind was made up 
 there was no turning him ; and, though he 
 was as terrified as anyone by the awful 
 happenings of the week, he had decided to 
 attend to his field. So he only answered 
 the taunts with a stolid, respectful: "No, I 
 do not put myself against the ghosts. But 
 perhaps they will let me alone, knowing 
 that my mother has now no one else to feed 
 her." 
 
 The flat-faced mother brought him two 
 tortillas* for lunch ; and putting her hands 
 upon his shoulders, looked at him a moment 
 from wet eyes, saying not a word. And 
 slinging over his shoulder the bow-case and 
 quiver, Lelo trudged away. 
 
 He plodded along the crooked meadow 
 road, white-patched here and there with 
 crystals of alkali ; j umped the main irrigat 
 ing ditch with a great bound, and took 
 "across lots" over the adobe fences and 
 
 * Tor-tel-yaz. Unleavened cakes of corn meal. 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 13 
 
 through the vineyards and the orchards of 
 apple, peach and apricot. 
 
 In the farther edge of the last orchard 
 stood a tiny adobe house, where old Reyes 
 had lived in the summer-time to guard her 
 ripening fruits. Since her death it had been 
 abandoned, with the garden, and next sum 
 mer the Indian congress could allot it to 
 any one who asked, since it would have 
 been left untilled for five years. The 
 house was half hidden from sight over 
 shadowed on one side by ancient pear trees 
 and on the other by the black cliffs of an 
 advance guard of the lava flow. 
 
 As he passed the ruined hut Lelo sud 
 denly stooped and began looking anxiously 
 at a footprint in the soft earth. "That was 
 from no moccasin of the Tee-wahn," he 
 muttered to himself, "for the sole is flatter 
 than ours. And it comes out of the house, 
 where no one ever goes, now that Grand 
 mother Reyes is dead. But this! For in 
 three steps it is no more the foot of a man, 
 but of a beast going even to the bushes 
 where I saw the Enchanted Burro that 
 morning" and all of a tremble, Lelo 
 leaned up against the wall of the house. It 
 was all he could do to keep from turning 
 and bolting for home and you need not 
 laugh at him. The bow-case at his side 
 
14 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 was from the tawny mountain lion Lelo had 
 slain with his own hands in the canons of 
 the Tetilla ; and when Ref ligio, the youngest 
 medicine-man, fell wounded in the fore 
 front of the fight at Tajique, it was Lelo 
 who had lumbered forward and brought 
 him away in his arms, saving- his life and 
 hair from the Cumanche knife. But it takes 
 a braver man to stand against his own 
 superstitions than to face wild beast or 
 wilder savage; and now, though Lelo did 
 not flee, his knees smote together and the 
 blood seemed to have left his head dry and 
 over-light. He sat down, so weak was he ; 
 and, with back against the wall, he tried to 
 gather his scattered thoughts. 
 
 At that very moment, if Lelo had turned 
 his head a very little more to the left and 
 looked at one particular rift in the thorny 
 greasewoods that choked the foot of the 
 cliff, he might have seen two dark, hungry 
 eyes fixed upon him; but Lelo was not look 
 ing that way so much as to the corner of 
 the cliff. There he would have to pass to 
 the field; and it was just around that cor 
 ner that he had seen the Enchanted Burro. 
 "And there also I have seen the mouth of a 
 cave, where they say the ogres used to 
 live and where no one dares to enter " and 
 he shivered again, like one half frozen. 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 15 
 
 Then he did look back to the left, but saw 
 nothing, for the eyes were no longer there. 
 Only, a few rods farther to the left, and 
 where Lelo could not see for the wall at his 
 back, the tall, white ears of a burro were 
 moving- quietly along- in the bushes, which 
 hid the rest of its body. Now and then the 
 animal stopped and cocked up its ears, as if 
 to listen; and its eyes rose over the bush, 
 shining" with a deep, strange light. Just 
 beyond was the low adobe wall which sep 
 arated Reyes s garden from the next run 
 ning from the foot of the cliff down past the 
 old house. 
 
 To go on to the field needed even more 
 courage than to keep from fleeing for home; 
 and stubborn as he was, Lelo was trying to 
 muster up legs and heart to proceed. He 
 even rose to his feet and drew back his 
 elbows fiercely, straining the muscles of his 
 chest, where there seemed to be such a 
 weight. Just around the corner of the 
 house, at that same moment, a burro s 
 head, with white ears and a blazed face, 
 rose noiselessly above the adobe fence, and 
 seeing nothing, a pair of black hoofs came 
 up, and in a swift bound the animal was 
 over the wall so lightly that even the 
 sharp Indian ears not fifteen feet away 
 heard nothing of it. 
 
1 6 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 But if Lelo did not notice, a sharper 
 watcher did. " Kay-e6-iu > yoo /" cried a 
 complaining- voice, and a brown bird with 
 broad wing s and a big 1 , round head went 
 fluttering- from its perch on the roof. Lelo 
 started violently, and then smiled at him 
 self. "It is only tecolote" he muttered, 
 u the little owl that lives with the tusas* 
 and they say he is very wise. To see 
 where he went." 
 
 The boy stole around the corner of the 
 house, but the owl was nowhere to be seen, 
 and he started back. 
 
 As he turned the angle again, he caught 
 sight of a burro s head just peeping from 
 around the other corner; and Lelo felt the 
 blood sinking from his face. The beast 
 gave a little start and then dropped its 
 head to a bunch of alfalfa that was green at 
 the corner. But this did not relieve Lelo s 
 terror. It was Paloma dead Paloma 
 now the Witch Burro. There was no mis 
 taking that jovero face. And plain it was, 
 too, that this was no longer burro-true, but 
 one of the accursed spirits in burro shape. 
 Those eyes! They seemed, in that swift 
 flash in which they had met Lelo s, to be 
 sunk far, far into the skull; and he was 
 sure that deep in them he saw a dull gleam 
 
 * Prairie dogs. 
 
LELO 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 17 
 
 of red. And the ears and head they were 
 touched with death, too! Their skin seemed 
 hard and ridgy as a rawhide, instead of fit 
 ting- as the skin does in life. So, also, was 
 the neck; but no more was to be seen for 
 the angle of the wall. 
 
 There are men who die at seventy with 
 out having- lived so long- or suffered so much 
 as Lelo lived and suff ered in those few sec 
 onds. His breath refused to come, and his 
 muscles seemed paralyzed. This, then, 
 was the Enchanted Burro the witch that 
 had slain the captain of war, and his lieu 
 tenants, and many more. And now he was 
 come for Lelo for thoug-h he nosed the 
 alfalfa, one grim eye was always on the 
 boy. So, no doubt, he had watched his 
 other victims but from behind, for not 
 one of them had ever moved. And with 
 that thoug-ht a sudden rush of blood came 
 pricking like needles in Lelo s head. 
 
 "No one of them saw him, else they had 
 surely fought! And shall I give myself to 
 him like a sheep? Not if he were ten 
 witches ! " And with the one swift motion 
 of all his life, the lad dropped on one knee, 
 even as hand and hand clapped notch to 
 bowstring, and, in a mighty tug, drew the 
 arrow to the head. 
 
1 8 The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 Lightning-like as was his move, the burro 
 understood, and hastily reared back but 
 a hair too late. The agate-tipped shaft 
 struck midway of its neck with a loud tap 
 as upon a drum, and bored through and 
 through till the feathers touched the skin. 
 The animal sprang high in air, with so 
 wild and hideous a scream as never came 
 from burro s throat before, and fell back 
 amid the alfalfa, floundering and pawing at 
 its neck. 
 
 But Lelo had waited for no more. Al 
 ready he was over the w r all and running like 
 a scared mustang, the bow gripped in his 
 left hand, his right clutching the bow-case, 
 whose tawny tail leaped and fluttered be 
 hind him. One-Eyed Quico could have 
 made it to the pueblo no faster than the 
 town slow-poke, who burst into the plaza 
 and the porch of the governor s house, 
 gasping : 
 
 " The Enchanted Burro ! I have killed 
 him!" 
 
 Fifteen minutes later the new war cap 
 tain, the medicine men, the governor, and 
 half the rest of the men of the pueblo were 
 entering Reyes s garden, and Lelo was al 
 lowed to walk with the -principales. All were 
 very grave, and some a little pale for it 
 was no laughing 1 matter to meddle with the 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 19 
 
 fiend, even after he was dead. There lay 
 the burro, motionless. No pool of blood was 
 around; but the white feathers of the ar 
 row had turned red. Cautiously they ap 
 proached, till suddenly Francisco, the sharp 
 est eyed of trailers, dashed forward and 
 caught up the two hind leg s from amid the 
 alfalfa, crying-: 
 
 "Said I not that he tipped the hoofs? 
 With reason 1" 
 
 For from each ankle five dark, naked toes 
 projected through a slit in the hide. 
 
 "Ay, well bewitched!" exclaimed the 
 war captain. " Pull me the other side ! " 
 And at their tug- the belly of the burro 
 parted lengthwise, showing- only a stiff, 
 dried skin, and inside the cavity a swart 
 body stripped to the breech-clout. Along 
 side lay arrows and a strong- bow of buffalo 
 horn, with a light copper hatchet and a keen 
 scalping knife. 
 
 " Sdcalo!^ ordered the war captain ; but 
 it was easier said than done. They bent 
 the stubborn rawhide well apart ; but not 
 until one had run his knife up the neck of 
 the skin and cut both ends of Lelo s arrow 
 could they haul out the masquerader. The 
 shaft had passed through his throat from 
 side to side, pinning it to the rawhide, and 
 there he had died. 
 
2O The Enchanted Burro. 
 
 When the slippery form was at last 
 dragged forth, and they saw its face, there 
 was a startled murmur through the crowd; 
 for even without the long scalp lock and the 
 vermilion face-paint, there were many there 
 who would have known the Cumanche med 
 icine man, whose brother was the chief that 
 fell at Tajique. He, too, had been taken 
 prisoner, and had taunted his captors and 
 promised to pay them, and in the night had 
 escaped, leaving one sentinel dead and an 
 other wounded. 
 
 The Enchanted Burro was all very plain 
 now. The plains conjurer, knowing- well 
 by habit how to play on superstitious fears, 
 had used poor Paloma as the instrument of 
 his revenge hiding the carcass and dry 
 ing the skin quickly on a frame with hot 
 ashes, so that it stood perfectly in shape by 
 itself. The bones of the fore legs he had 
 left in, to be managed with his hands ; and 
 in the dark or amid grass, no one would 
 have noticed the peculiarity of the hind 
 legs. He had only to pry open the slit in 
 the belly and crawl in, and the stiff hide 
 closed after him. Thus he had wreaked the 
 vengeance for which, uncompanioned, he 
 had followed the Pueblos back to their vil 
 lage. In the cave behind the greasewoods 
 were the scalps of his victims, drying on 
 
The Enchanted Burro. 21 
 
 little willow hoops ; but instead of going* to 
 deck a Cumanche lodg-e in the great plains, 
 they were tenderly buried in the old church 
 yard, restored to their proper owners. 
 
 After all these years there still are in the 
 pueblo many tales of the Enchanted Burro, 
 nothing- lost by the re-telling-. As for the 
 skin itself, it lies moth-eaten in the dark 
 storeroom of the man who has been first 
 assistant war captain for twenty years, 
 beginning- his novitiate the very day he 
 finished a witch and a Cumanche with a 
 single arrow. 
 
The Mummy Miner 
 
The Mummy Miner. 
 
 r I ^HERE was certainly nothing- suggest- 
 J. ivfc of antiquity about Faquito s ap 
 pearance. His droll, brown face, his thick 
 set boyish fig-ure and the alarming- tatters 
 of his scant apparel were all undignified as 
 his name which had g-ot to the most dis 
 respectful distance possible from the state 
 ly Francisco of the baptismal font. There 
 could be no worthier name for a boy of 
 Peru than that worn by the great conquista 
 dor Pizarro. But it is hard to live up to the 
 dignity of the christening-, and Francisco 
 deg-enerates into Francisquito, which is 
 fond ; and then to Franco, which is familiar ; 
 and finally to Faquito, which is positively 
 rude. Probably it never occurred to the 
 lad to be comforted with thinking- that the 
 greatest conqueror of the Americas was 
 called Faquito, too, when he was herding- 
 his pigs in Truxillo ; and that if one Faquo 
 could grow up to be Don Francisco, so 
 
26 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 might another. These consolations of phil 
 osophy never do come to us until we are too 
 old to need them so much. 
 
 But perhaps you are thinking-: "Well, 
 why should a twelve-year-old cholo boy look 
 antiquated? Are lads of that age in Peru 
 expected to be ancient, any more than in 
 New York or Boston?" 
 
 N-no, not exactly that though in the 
 quick tropics a boy is older at twelve than 
 is one of the same years in the temperate 
 zone; bigger and more mature. But it was 
 Faquito s occupation rather than his age 
 which made me think of him as rather para 
 doxical. You will admit that to find this 
 irresponsible, twinkling face set in one of 
 the most century-worn frames on earth 
 might well seem incongruous, not to say 
 startling. The sight of this half Spanish, 
 half Indian* boy of to-day, playing with 
 lives and thoughts that were forgotten five 
 hundred years ago aye, and some of them, 
 perhaps, that long before the Old World 
 dreamed there was a New was enough 
 to make any explorer rub his eyes. 
 
 Doubtless we shall understand each other 
 better by a little translation. Huaco is a 
 word not found in the Spanish dictionaries, 
 for it belongs only to Peru. It is from the 
 
 * For that is what chol> means. 
 
The Mummy Miner. 27 
 
 Quichua, or speech of the Incas, of whom 
 you have heard so many remarkable (and 
 not very accurate) stories ; and as adopted 
 into the Spanish of Peru means specifically 
 a relic of the ancient Indian " civilizations " 
 which occupied this strang-e land before the 
 coming- of Europeans. Huaquero is the 
 Spanish derivative to mean a digg-er of 
 these antiquities in other words, a mum 
 my miner. This is a reg-ular profession in 
 Peru, just as much as g-old mining-. A 
 competent huaquero commands as g-ood 
 wag-es as a skilled laborer in the marvelous 
 silver mountain of Cerro de Pasco ; and, if 
 he works "on his own hook," may earn 
 much more. Peru is dotted everywhere 
 with the ruins of larg-e towns of the Incas 
 and other tribes some of them that we 
 have so long- been taug-ht to reg-ard as 
 "king-s" and the like, while in fact they 
 were tribes very much like the Pueblo 
 Indians of New Mexico; remarkably ad 
 vanced in some thing s, but still entirely 
 Indians socially, politically and mentally. 
 Some of these ruins have been deserted for 
 uncounted centuries, and no man can say 
 who built them nor when they were aban 
 doned. In fact, Peru is the American 
 Egypt in antiquity ; and a more than Egypt 
 in richness. It was in its time the richest 
 
28 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 country in the world. Even before Euro 
 peans came to tap its peaks of silver and 
 valleys of gold, the ancient Peruvians had 
 discovered a way to treat the precious 
 metals, and used them to adorn themselves 
 and their temples. Like the Indians they 
 were, they had the invariable Indian idea of 
 the next world; and always buried with their 
 dead the best clothing- and other property, to 
 give the wanderer a handsome start beyond 
 the grave precisely as our aborigines do 
 still. And as the dryness of the Peruvian 
 desert preserves mummies indefinitely 
 through the ages, you will begin to see how 
 mummy mining has become one of the im 
 portant industries of Peru. There are 
 mummies everywhere; and each mummy 
 has still what was its wealth in life. The 
 gold and silver trinkets, the exquisite cloths 
 and potteries of these strange folk of old, 
 and all the other relics of their handiwork, 
 fetch high prices from museums and col 
 lectors. 
 
 So that was Faquo s business and a very 
 hard and unpleasant business it is. Taita* 
 Pedro should have provided for his family; 
 but taita Pedro much preferred to lie 
 around the great sugar plantation in the 
 next valley beyond the arm of desert, and 
 
 Papa. 
 
The Mummy Miner. 29 
 
 keep his swarthy hide full of the cheap rum 
 which is the last and worst gif t of the sugar 
 cane. He never came home to the little 
 cabin at Lurin a hut of quincha, or wat 
 tled bamboos plastered with adobe except 
 to get money. Poor, fat Maria would have 
 had a very rough time caring for her fat 
 brood, if it had not been for Faquito. She 
 worked in the cane fields of the nearer ha 
 cienda, and washed for the priest; but the 
 few reales she could earn would not have 
 been enough to put a cotton shirt on half 
 the backs she was responsible for, after 
 feeding all the mouths. Mariquita was a 
 perfect little woman for ten years old ; but 
 she could only attend to the babies which 
 was indeed contract enough for a much 
 older nurse. So it had been a great relief 
 when Faquo got big enough to be a pro 
 ducer with the equal good fortune that 
 the sandy headland only two miles away 
 was crowned by the mighty ruins of Pacha- 
 camac. 
 
 Every day, except Sundays and fiestas, 
 Faquito was early trudging the dusty road 
 to the ruins, his spade over his shoulder, 
 his fat face screwed up sometimes to whistle 
 a doleful yaravi (the only air he knew), or 
 as often equally twisted with munching 
 sugar cane. It was very convenient to 
 
30 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 have one s candy growing- by the roadside 
 particularly as there were no stores. All 
 a boy had to do was to clamber over the 
 adobe wall, cut a stalk of the caiia dulcc 
 from amid its dense bristle of sword leaves, 
 and clamber back to chew upon this pithy 
 molasses candy at leisure. There was 
 generally a culm in Faquito s hand as he 
 trudged across; and when he got tired of 
 chewing the obstinate fiber, he would rest 
 his jaws with whistling. 
 
 When he had crossed the flat, and waded 
 the shallow brook of Lurin, there was a 
 great scramble up the precipitous bluff 
 which is the j umping-off place of the desert ; 
 and even Faquo was always puffing hard by 
 the time he came to the top. An ancient 
 wall was there ; and under the long, morn 
 ing shadow of this he used to sit down a 
 moment partly for a bit of a rest, and 
 partly because he liked to gaze upon that 
 strange vista in the hot, level light. Behind 
 was the lovely valley, dense green with 
 tropic cane-fields and bananas and palms; 
 but in front was the great, gray desert, un 
 spotted by one living- blade. On the rolling 
 sand hills close before him was a wild, mys 
 terious huddle of mighty walls, tall and 
 broken and gray in the sunlight, with black 
 shadows lurking in their angles walls and 
 
The Mummy Miner. 31 
 
 walls in a bewildering- labyrinth. At his 
 left was the huge castle on its tall head 
 land, boxed about with tier after tier of 
 walls thirty feet high; and in front of him 
 the central hill, crowned with an enormous 
 building-. In a hollow at the foot of the 
 castle, fifty acres were thick-dotted with 
 dark, irregular holes, around which thou 
 sands of white specks gleamed in the sun. 
 Momently, too, little puffs of dust flew up 
 here and there. Castro and Juan and Pan- 
 cho, the grown-up huaqueros from Lima, 
 were already at work down there amid the 
 bleaching skulls, each at the bottom of his 
 dusty shaft, hoping at any moment to find a 
 rich tomb perhaps even the "Big Fish " 
 of Peruvian folk lore. That is what Faquito 
 was dreaming about, too. How many times 
 he had heard of the hundreds of man-loads 
 of gold that the Yuncas buried in Pacha- 
 camac when Hernando Pizarro came prick 
 ing down from the mountains, every horse 
 of his cavalcade shod with silver ! 
 
 If he could only find the Pez Grande! Or 
 even the tail of it ! He got up from under 
 the wall with a sigh and started down the 
 dusty trail toward where the men were at 
 work. His " mine " was there too where 
 he had dug a week without finding any but 
 the poorest graves. 
 
32 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 Just then an owl the little brown owl of 
 the desert flew up almost at his very feet 
 and alighted upon a wall a few rods away. 
 How Mariquita would like it for a pet! 
 Faquo crept up behind the wall; but just 
 as he was about to clap his hat over the bird 
 it fluttered off a few rods farther. 
 
 It was so stupid with the sun that Faquo 
 felt sure he would get it this time, and 
 again he crept up. But stupid as the owl 
 was, it was just too smart for Faquo. A 
 dozen times it was almost in his hands; but 
 a dozen times, too, it fluttered away again 
 until it had led him up the central hill, 
 through the great ruined building th ere, and 
 down the other side. 
 
 At the foot of an adobe wall sixty feet high 
 it settled upon the edge of some deep- 
 sunken rooms. Faquo scrambled down a 
 gap and stole out along the parapet; and 
 suddenly reaching up from this shelter 
 caught the astonished bird by the wing. 
 But he had forgotten the beak and claws, 
 which the very field-mice know. As they 
 hooked savagely into his brown fist he drew 
 back sharply and just too far. The ledge 
 was very narrow; and overbalanced by his 
 recoil, he fell sprawling twenty feet into the 
 great cell below. 
 
The Mummy Miner. 33 
 
 Luckily there was at the bottom nothing 
 harder than the universal in-blown sand; 
 and though sadly shaken up by the fall 
 Faquo was not seriously hurt. For a few 
 moments he lay there half stunned; then 
 slowly gathered himself up and looked 
 about in a dazed way. 
 
 The owl was still in his hand less by his 
 grasp than by the obstinate clenching of 
 its own curved claws, which now began to 
 hurt again. He unhooked them painfully, 
 one by one, tore a tatter from his shirt and 
 tied it about those mischievous feet. A 
 rather stubborn boy, Faquo. It was very 
 hard to turn his attention from anything 
 upon which he had once started, until it was 
 finished. 
 
 At last, when his prize was safely 
 anchored to a clod of adobe, he was free to 
 think of more important matters. PuesI 
 He had walked into a bad trap. There 
 were no doors nor windows down here 
 clearly the ancients had descended into 
 these cellar-like rooms by ladders, which 
 had long ago disappeared. And how was he 
 to get up that twenty feet? In this adobe 
 he could cut steps to the top ; or even, in 
 time, burrow through the base of that 
 eight-foot wall but his spade stood away 
 
34 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 up there on the ledge, leaning- against the 
 parapet where he had left it. 
 
 "Castro! Cas-tro-o!" he screamed at the 
 top of his lung-s but it seemed that his 
 voice did not rise at all out of the sunken 
 chamber. How buried and pent it was! 
 He shouted until he was hoarse; but knew 
 as well that the huaqueros did not hear him, 
 as if he could have seen them still digging 
 stolidly away, far down the other side of 
 the hill. 
 
 The place grew terrible to him. In such 
 a maze of ruins they might not find him 
 until too late. Maria would come to look, 
 surely, if he were not home by dark; but 
 how could she expect to find him so far from 
 where he always worked? 
 
 He knew well, this boy of the edge of the 
 desert, that one does not last long on such 
 a gridiron of the tropics. Without food one 
 may do for several days ; but without water, 
 
 under that sun ! Already his mouth 
 
 was parched. 
 
 And that maldito owl that was to blame 
 for it all! He started up angrily with a 
 clod of adobe to throw at it. But his arm 
 dropped suddenly. "No! Nana says al 
 ways that the birds, too, are children of 
 Taita Dios, and that He loves best those 
 who are good to them. So perhaps I am 
 
The Mummy Miner. 35 
 
 punished for catching it. Pobrecito! For 
 now we both are caught." 
 
 The owl did not seem to mind so much. 
 It sat bunched upon its tethered feet, blink 
 ing back at Faquo. It looked so very grave, 
 so very wise! Quiza it knew very much 
 about the ruins; for here it had lived, and 
 its people, very long now. Perhaps it even 
 knew where was the Big Fish ! 
 
 Even as Faquo looked at it with these 
 thoughts, the owl turned its head down on 
 one side, and looked at him soberly along 
 its shoulder. Some might have laughed at 
 this proceeding, but not so Faquito. He 
 was too good an Indian to despise the wis 
 dom of them that talk not ; and suddenly 
 he asked with great earnestness : u ln truth 
 that thou dost know, friend owl I No ? " 
 
 At this direct question the owl turned its 
 head down upon the other shoulder, and 
 looked wiser than ever. Surely, he knew ! 
 
 " But where ? " cried the boy. " Tell me, 
 owl friend ! " 
 
 But the bird said not a word. Only it 
 gazed at Faquo very seriously; and then, 
 turning its head as upon a pivot, began to 
 spruce up the feathers upon its back, as 
 much as to say: "Oh, that you must find 
 out for yourself, as I did." 
 
 Such a wise bird, but so unspoken ! 
 Really, how convenient it must be to be able 
 
36 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 to turn one s head square around that way, 
 and look straight back ! It must be that he 
 can even see that spot on the wall just be 
 hind him and above his head that round 
 place where the adobe is yellower than the 
 rest. Probably the plaster was broken 
 there, and they patched it. 
 
 Faquo got up idly, and set the owl care 
 fully to one side, and passed his hand over 
 the spot. It was somewhat larger than his 
 head j ust a round patch of adobe plaster, 
 centuries old, yet evidently newer than the 
 rest of the wall. 
 
 He picked aimlessly at its edge. A peb 
 ble came out under his fingers, and showed, 
 behind, a small crevice as if a deep hole 
 had been filled up, instead of a little break 
 in the wall plaster. Instantly the boy s 
 eyes waked up, and a queer, professional 
 look settled upon his face. 
 
 "It will be a wall niche," he said gravely. 
 "And sometimes they filled them up to 
 change the wall ; but why did the owl sit by 
 this one, if that was all? " 
 
 He pried and pulled until his fingers 
 were sore, and pounded with his fist upon 
 the yellow patch ; but the adobe was very 
 stubborn. How aggravating to have the 
 spade perched away up there, when he 
 wanted to open this niche ! For by now he 
 
The Mummy Miner. 37 
 
 had quite forgotten about getting- out of his 
 prison. The strange fascination that all 
 miners know was upon him. 
 
 Plague take the spade ! He picked up 
 again the strong- lump of adobe which had 
 fallen with him from the upper wall, and 
 flung- it at the offending spade. It struck 
 the sandy shelf, and a little stream of sand 
 fell down with the missile. That gave him 
 a thought ; and he picked up his clod and 
 threw it again and again and again. 
 
 Each time it fell back a little smaller, but 
 each time a little more sand sifted down. 
 Then the sand, thus started, began fritter 
 ing down of its own accord, and the under 
 mined shovel began to creep, stopped, slid 
 a little, and at last pitched down and fell at 
 Faquo s feet. 
 
 He jabbed at the adobe with the corner 
 of his spade, and the hard lumps showered 
 down upon his bare toes. In a few moments 
 a smooth-rimmed opening was revealed, 
 and he thrust in his arm. 
 
 It was not like any of the niches he knew 
 the ones that have never been closed, but 
 remain as they were 500 years ago, when 
 the people of Pachacamac kept on these 
 odd shelves their ornaments and trinkets. 
 This one was like a nest of the " God-give- 
 you" bird with a small opening, but large 
 
38 The Mummy Miner. 
 
 inside. In the big- hollow was something- 
 soft; and Faquo drew out his hand full of 
 beautiful yellow floss. 
 
 "The wool of the vicuna, only," he mum 
 bled, disappointedly, but with the expert s 
 air. "But why should they ceil that up? 
 Perhaps there is also cloth." 
 
 In went the brown fist again; and rum 
 maging- down throug-h the silken fleece, his 
 fingers met something- firmer. In a moment 
 he had it out a long bundle of that match 
 less weaving of old Peru ; of cloth as soft 
 and strong as silk, woven with strange 
 figures of men and gods and beasts; such 
 fabrics as never unthinking loom has 
 woven, nor any machine less wondrous 
 than the fingers of a man. 
 
 "Ay! It will be worth twenty soles!" 
 cried Faquo softly. "But it is so heavy! 
 Perhaps they have wound it on a stone." 
 
 Very tenderly he unrolled it, that none 
 of those bright threads stronger than all 
 the centuries, but brittle ^ a careless touch 
 might be broken. But when the last 
 fold came off, this very stupid Indian boy 
 fell down on his knees in the sand, and cried 
 and cried. For it was not a stone at all. 
 
 If you will go to the Exposition in Lima, 
 among the bewildering collections of Peru- 
 
The Mummy Miner. 39 
 
 vian antiquities, you can see two priceless 
 idols, each big 1 as a large doll. They are 
 like human figures, excellently sculptured ; 
 and the strangest thing about them is that 
 they are made of alternate zones of gold 
 and silver from feet to head, so that they 
 remind one of that great image we read of 
 in Revelations. 
 
 That is the nearest Faquito ever came to 
 finding the Fez Grande and quite near 
 enough for one poor boy. And that is what 
 took my breath away when I had wakened 
 and hauled up with my reata the little, 
 ragged cholo I accidentally spied in the 
 trap where he had cried himself to sleep 
 over something hugged in his arms. 
 
 When he had laid the precious images 
 and the spade on the broad top of the wall, 
 and told me all about it, he insisted on being 
 lowered again on the rope to get the owl, 
 which he loosed and let go, saying, in the 
 tone of an old man: 
 
 " Taita Dios God our Father sends us 
 friends we know not. For the owl brought 
 me here and showed me the place, so that 
 now we are very rich. And even so, I 
 could have died there without the help of 
 you. So I think your grace may be even as 
 w r ise as the owl, which knows where is the 
 Fez Grande." 
 
A Boy of the Andes 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 T3ROBABLY they would not have seen 
 1 Ramon Ynga at all, but for the llamas. 
 There was enough else to look at. The 
 overpowering walls of the mountains on 
 both sides seemed to turn the eyes, even 
 as they turned the foaming- Rimac, into a 
 channel from which there was no escape. 
 Up at the end of the cleft was such a sight 
 as no man can long- hold his eyes from 
 the black peak of Chin-chau, bent down with 
 its load of eternal winter. There is some 
 thing- awful about the snow that never 
 melts the great blank fields, the wrinkled 
 glaciers, the savage ice cornices, the black 
 rocks that peer out hopelessly here and 
 there. It is so different from the friendly 
 white we know and welcome for its sleigh 
 rides and coastings, its snow men and snow 
 ballings. 
 
 It was far up the summit of the Peruvian 
 cordillera, at the very foot of the last wild 
 peaks that stand 18,000 feet in the sky. 
 
 43 
 
44 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 Where the panting- mules trudged, 3,000 
 feet below the peaks, was low, green herb 
 age; and 500 feet lower yet the little tor 
 rent, white as its mother snows, roared and 
 chuckled alternately to the uneven wind. 
 But up yonder all was so white and still; 
 their eyes kept lifting- up to it, forg-etful of 
 the dangerous trail the mules could take 
 care of that. They, poor brutes, seemed 
 ill at ease. They breathed in short, loud 
 gasps; and every forty feet or so they 
 stopped and rested for a few moments, un 
 mindful of the spur. Then, when they 
 were ready, they started up again of their 
 own accord, sighing heavily. They would 
 not last much longer, at this rate. 
 
 "I think I ll get off and walk awhile," 
 said the younger of the two, a bronzed, 
 sinewy man of twenty-five. " It spoils even 
 this scenery for me, to see the suffering 
 of the mules. One wouldn t think they d 
 play out so, on such a good trail." 
 
 "It is not the grade," remarked the Pro 
 fessor, quietly, "as perhaps you will learn, 
 /am sorry for the mules, too; but it is bet 
 ter to risk them than something more im 
 portant." 
 
 " Why, you speak as though there were 
 some danger about it!" said the younger 
 man, who was now striding sturdily along, 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 45 
 
 leaving- his animal to follow. Many a time 
 he had climbed Pike s Peak and its brother 
 giants of Colorado, and once had stood on 
 the cone of Popocatepetl. A peak was 
 nothing- to him ; and as for this excellent 
 path pooh ! It was mere child s play. 
 
 The Professor watched him without a 
 word, but with an expression half quizzical, 
 half grave. After a hundred yards he 
 spoke : 
 
 " You don t seem quite so springy, Bar 
 ton. I never saw you heavy-footed before." 
 
 "Well, the truth is, Professor," gasped 
 Barton, rather shamefacedly, "I feel most 
 remarkably queer. My knees ache as they 
 never did before though I wouldn t mind 
 that so much. But I cannot seem to breathe 
 well. Here my heart and lungs are pound 
 ing away, as if I d been sprinting for the 
 220-yard record ! It s enough to make a 
 man ashamed of himself." 
 
 " No cause at all for shame, my dear boy; 
 you are simply learning what everyone has 
 to learn who tempts great altitudes. Now 
 get on your mule." 
 
 " No, I 11 wear this thing off!" cried the 
 athlete, impatiently. " I m no puny boy, to 
 give up just because I feel a little wrong. 
 I 11 just keep at it, and beat it yet ! " 
 
46 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 "Barton," said the older man, in atone 
 his companion had never heard him use 
 before, "you get on that mule, and let us 
 have no more nonsense. I like your pluck; 
 and it is because you have more real sand 
 (as they say in our West) than any young- 
 man I know, that I picked you out for this 
 journey. But courage is a dangerous thing 
 unless you mix it with brains. You must 
 learn that there are some things pluck can 
 not overcome and this is one of them. 
 Mount, then!" 
 
 Barton obeyed with rather an ill grace, 
 and promptly got angrier with himself at 
 realizing what a relief it was to be perched 
 again in the ridiculously comfortable Peru 
 vian saddle. He could not get over a feel 
 ing of shame that the muscles which had 
 borne the cruelest tests of the frontier 
 should now have " played the baby," as he 
 put it; and he rode on somewhat sulkily. 
 
 It was here that Ramon Ynga stumbled 
 into their lives; and, as I have said, all by 
 the doing of the llamas. As the travelers 
 rounded a sharp turn in the trail the mules 
 stopped suddenly almost face to face with 
 the two strangest animals that Barton had 
 ever seen. Shabby, grotesque figures they 
 were, with splay feet, long, awkward legs, 
 and bodies looking like long tussocks of dry 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 47 
 
 grass. But their necks were the worst 
 tall and ungainly as stovepipes covered with 
 hair. Their backs were hardly so high as 
 those of the under-sized mules ; but on these 
 unspeakable necks their heads were quite 
 on a level with Barton s. And such heads ! 
 They were disproportionately small and 
 ludicrously narrow, with pointed ears, ma 
 lignant little faces, and lips wickedly drawn 
 back. 
 
 "Why, I never saw anything-, except a 
 rattlesnake, look so vindictive! " cried Bar 
 ton. " What on earth are they ? " 
 
 " That is the national bird of Peru," re 
 plied the Professor roguishly. "We are 
 apt to see many up here. In fact, if we had 
 had any daylight in Casapalca you would 
 have noticed many hundreds of them; for 
 they bring- all the ore to the stamp mills, 
 and do most of the freighting- besides. 
 Lower than 10,000 feet you will hardly ever 
 find them ; the llama* is a mountain animal, 
 and soon dies if taken to the coast. " 
 
 "So that is the llama! But I thoug-ht 
 that was called the * Peruvian sheep ; and 
 these look no more like sheep than my mule 
 does." 
 
 "It got that foolish name from the closet 
 naturalists. No one who ever saw a llama 
 
 * Pronounced ll-yah-mah. 
 
48 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 could fail to recognize it for a camel 
 smaller and longer-haired than the Eastern 
 beast, and without a hump; but a true 
 camel." 
 
 "It s a funny-looking- brute, * laughed 
 Barton. " It seems to put in its time think 
 ing- what a grudg-e it has ag-ainst everybody. 
 Hi ! Get out of the way, you standing- 
 grievances!" 
 
 The Professor and the young frontiers 
 man had thus far enjoyed the pause of the 
 mules; but now the need of pushing on re 
 curred to their minds, and Barton s excla 
 mation was meant as a signal for advance. 
 But the llamas stood stolidly, blocking the 
 trail. He drummed his spurs against his 
 mule; whereat the animal took two steps 
 forward and stopped, bracing back, un 
 mindful of the rowels. The llamas did not 
 take a step. Only they seemed to drop 
 their bodies a little, upon those long legs. 
 
 " Why, they re not such fools as they 
 look ! " cried Barton, whose sharp eye under 
 stood the trifling motion. "See! They 
 are going to give us the edge ! " 
 
 The trail was two feet wide an endless 
 thread of a shelf hewn along the mountain 
 wall. On the right, the great, dark slope 
 ran up to the very clouds; on the left, one 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 49 
 
 could snap a pebble into the white torrent, 
 500 feet below. 
 
 "I have heard that they always take the 
 wall," the Professor rejoined, "and that 
 when two llama trains meet on one of these 
 trails it is almost impossible to make a 
 passing-. Sometimes they even shove each 
 other off the cliff." 
 
 " I guess we d better not force the right 
 of way a tumble into the Rimac there is 
 more than I care for ! " And Barton jumped 
 from his mule and advanced upon the block- 
 aders, waving his arms threateningly. 
 
 "Look out!" cried the Professor; but 
 before the words were fairly off his tongue, 
 the foremost llama opened its ugly mouth 
 and spat at Barton in fury. At this un 
 pleasant salutation he retreated hastily. 
 
 "That is their weapon of defense." said 
 the Professor. "And their saliva is won 
 derfully acrid. It s as well you didn t get 
 it in the face. But I wish they would get 
 out of the way we have no time to spare. " 
 
 Just then there was another surprise. A 
 figure hardly less remarkable than the 
 camels slid down from the overhanging 
 hillside, and stood in the path, looking at 
 the startled travelers. It was a dwarfish 
 creature, not four feet tall, with a large, 
 round head, a broad, strong body, and very 
 
50 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 short legs, peculiarly bundled up in un 
 familiar clothes. A boy what in the world 
 was he doing on that impossible slope? 
 What a goat he must be ! 
 
 "Hulloa!" cried Barton, as soon as he 
 could find a voice. 
 
 "God give you good day, sirs, "answered 
 the lad gravely, in thick Spanish. "Wait 
 me so-little, and I will get you by." 
 
 With this he called " U-pa ! " to the llamas, 
 lifting his finger as if to point them up the 
 trail. Ordinarily they would have obeyed ; 
 but the aggressive manner of Barton had 
 roused their obstinacy, and they did not 
 budge. The boy put his shoulder to the 
 ribs of one, and heaved hard, but the brute 
 stood its ground. 
 
 "Well, it is to wait!" said he; and ran 
 about the path, gathering up very small 
 pebbles until his shabby hat was full. Then 
 he sat down on a boulder that jutted from 
 the bank, settling himself as if for a long 
 rest, and threw a mild and measured peb 
 ble at each llama. They turned their heads 
 a little and wrinkled their disagreeable 
 noses. He waited a moment and then 
 pitched two more pebbles which had the 
 same effect. So he sat, slowly and mechani 
 cally tossing his harmless missiles upon the 
 dense hair of his charges. Evidently he 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 5 1 
 
 was in no hurry ; and the two travelers, im 
 patient as they were, had too much wisdom 
 of experience to try to push him. They 
 sat quietly in their saddles, watching- the 
 droll scene. It was very ridiculous to need 
 deliverance from two stupid beasts, and to 
 get it from such an owlish little tatterde 
 malion. His ragged clothing was of very 
 thick, coarse cloth; and upon his feet were 
 the clumsy yanquis^ or rawhide sandals of 
 mountain Peru, and he wore thick stockings 
 rising to his knees. Over his trousers was 
 a curious garment, half apron and half leg 
 gings; and oversleeves of the same material, 
 hung with a cord about his neck, came up 
 over the elbows of his coat. These two 
 garments were knit in very strange pat 
 terns, amid which were square, brown 
 llamas wandering up and down a gray back 
 ground. Around his waist was a woven 
 belt, now very old, but of beautiful colors 
 and workmanship. And his face what a 
 brown, round riddle I 
 
 "How do you call yourself, friend?" 
 asked the Prof essor in Spanish. "And have 
 you ten years or a hundred? * 
 
 "Ramon Ynga, senor. And the other I 
 do not know. I have been here a long time 
 ever since they built the mill at Casa- 
 palca." 
 
52 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 "You must be about fifteen, then. And 
 where do you live?" 
 
 "There, above," answered Ramon, toss 
 ing 1 another pebble. 
 
 "A curious habit of the mountaineers," 
 said the Professor. "These Indians, in 
 stead of living- in the valleys, climb to the 
 very tops of these peaks, and build there 
 their squalid stone hovels. They seem to 
 think nothing- of the eternal clambering- up 
 and down." 
 
 An hour crawled by, and the stones in 
 Ramon s hat were running low. Suddenly 
 the brown llama turned with a snort of dis- 
 g-ust, and strode off up the trail. The white 
 one hesitated a moment, snorted, and fol 
 lowed. "That way they get tired, sirs," 
 said the boy, emptying his hat and pulling 
 it down upon his thatch of black hair. 
 
 "I d take a good club to them ! " growled 
 Barton, who had great confidence in the 
 Saxon way of forcing things. 
 
 " No, the boy is quite right. It is another 
 case wherein you must not try to be smarter 
 than nature. The llama is the stubbornest 
 brute alive a mule is vacillating compared 
 to him. If you put a pound too much on his 
 load, he will lie down, and you might beat 
 him to death or build a fire beside him, but 
 he would not get up. Nobody but a Peru- 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 53 
 
 vian Indian can do anything- with a Peru 
 vian camel, and Ramon has just shown us 
 the proper tactics. Hurt the animal, and 
 he only grows more sullen; but the pebbles 
 merely tease him until he can bear it no 
 long-en And really he repays patience; for 
 he is the only animal that can work effect 
 ively at these altitudes, where horses and 
 mules are practically useless. But ade~ 
 lantel (forward!)" 
 
 "Is your Excellency going to Cerro de 
 Pasco? " asked the little Peruvian, running 
 along-side the mule and looking up at the 
 Professor with unusual animation in his 
 non-committal face. He had never spoken 
 with " Yankees " before, and indeed for 
 any strang-er to notice him kindly was a 
 new experience. He liked these pale men; 
 and a dim little wish to please them warmed 
 in his heart. That big- young man why, 
 he was taller than any Serrano in the 
 cordillera! was good. Ramon had seen 
 money a few times ; but that round, shiny 
 s0/,* which the stranger had tossed him 
 when the llamas moved, was the first he 
 had ever held in his hand ; and it was almost 
 a worry to be so rich ! But the other man, 
 with a little gray above his ears, who only 
 looked at him so, and spoke as if he knew 
 
 * The Peruvian silver dollar. Pronounced soul. 
 
54 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 him he, surely, was very great; and it 
 was to him that the ragged boy had said 
 " ExceUncia" His face was kindly; and 
 there were little smiles at the edges of his 
 mouth, though he did not laugh. 
 
 41 No, hijito (little son)," he answered, 
 "we are not bound to the mines. We are 
 going to climb the Chin-chan, to look at the 
 ice cornices and to measure them." 
 
 Even Ramon looked astonished at this. 
 If a Serrano had said it, every one would 
 know he was crazy. Or if it were the young 
 man well, what could you expect of one 
 who would give away a whole sol? But this 
 one whatever he did, it must be right. 
 He certainly was not crazy. Still 
 
 " But the Soroche, your Excellency, " ven 
 tured the boy. " For all strangers have it ; 
 and many die, even in crossing the slope. 
 Only we who were born here can go so 
 high." 
 
 "We have to go, my boy ; for I must look 
 at the snow fields and the cliffs of ice, and 
 measure them," said the Professor, kindly. 
 "I know well of the mountain sickness, and 
 we will be very careful. Besides, we are 
 both very strong." 
 
 "It is not always of the strong," per 
 sisted Ramon. "Sometimes the sick cross 
 in safety, and those who are very large and 
 
THE HOME OF THE SOROCHE 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 55 
 
 red even larger than your Excellency s 
 friend fall suddenly and never rise again; 
 for the Soroche is stronger than any." 
 
 " You are quite right, my wise friend. 
 It is terrible. But all do not fall victims, 
 and we must brave it." 
 
 " At the least, Excellency, let me go also! 
 For I know these hills very well, and per 
 haps I could help. As for the llamas, my 
 brother Sancho comes even yonder, and he 
 will herd them." 
 
 " You won t really take the little rat up 
 there, will you, Professor?" broke in Bar 
 ton. " It would be the death of him." ^ 
 
 "M-m! I only hope we may be as safe 
 as I know he will be ! Estd bien, rny boy ! 
 Vamosl"* 
 
 At nine the next morning the three were 
 entering the edge of the snow fields. They 
 had camped for the night in a deserted 
 hovel at the head of the valley; and there 
 the mules could be seen grazing, pulling as 
 far down hill as their ropes would allow. 
 The hut was not a mile behind; but the 
 travelers had been ever since daylight com 
 ing thus far. The Professor looked old; 
 and Barton s big chest was heaving vio 
 lently. As for Ramon, he clambered along 
 
 * "All right. Come." 
 
56 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 steadily and soberly, stopping- only when he 
 saw the others had stopped. 
 
 By noon they were at the foot of the last 
 ridge, in a great rounding- bay flanked by 
 two spurs of the upper peak. The curving 
 rim far overhead was a savage cliff of eter 
 nal ice a cliff of 1,500 feet sheer. At the 
 top a great white brow projected many 
 yards, overhang-ing the bluish precipice. 
 
 " It is a noble cornice, " gasped the 
 Professor, as they sank upon the snow to 
 rest for the hundredth time since morning. 
 "But I fear we made a mistake. We 
 
 should not have tried this without 
 waiting a few weeks in Casa palca 
 
 to get acclimated." 
 
 "It s awful!" groaned Barton. "My 
 head feels as if it would burst. 
 But I 11 be hanged if I give up! " And 
 the resolute young man fairly snatched 
 himself to erectness, and started toward 
 the spur. But with the third step his tall 
 form swung half around, and swayed an 
 instant, and fell as a dead pine falls in the 
 wind, and lay heavily upon the snow. His 
 face was black; and a bright red stream 
 trickled from each nostril as the Professor 
 sank on his knees beside him, crying husk 
 ily, "My poor boy! I have killed 
 you!" 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 57 
 
 The Professor s face had a strange look, 
 too. His eyes were very red and swollen 
 but that was from the merciless glare of 
 the snow and in his cheeks a gray shadow 
 seemed to be struggling with the unnatural 
 purple. And he was so unlike the Profes 
 sor of yesterday. He seemed so dull; even 
 stupid ! 
 
 "Come, Excellency!" Ramon was shout 
 ing in his ear. "It is the Soroche, the 
 mountain sickness, and none can fight it. 
 We must be gone from here, else very soon 
 you are both dead. Come!" The small 
 brown fist was tugging at the old man s 
 shoulder, and in the quaint, boyish voice 
 was a strange thrill. The Professor under 
 stood. Dazed as he was, the way in which 
 Ramon said that one word "Come" roused 
 and cheered him like the far bugle call 
 which tells of reinforcements to the be 
 sieged. He was not alone. Here was help 
 the help of a dwarfed Indian boy of fifteen! 
 But that is often the very sort we need 
 not muscle so much as the elbow-touch of a 
 staunch heart. 
 
 "But Barton?" said the Professor. He 
 could no longer think clearly; and instinct 
 ively he turned to Ramon as superior. 
 "Barton? We cannot leave Barton ! " 
 
58 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 The Serrano lad looked at the prostrate 
 figure and then at the Professor. 
 
 But even in those bloodshot eyes Ramon 
 read something- that decided him. It was 
 very hard, and it was more dangerous so; 
 but the Friend-man loved the other. The 
 other must be tried for too! 
 
 Ramon unwound his long- woven belt and 
 passed it under Barton s back. The ends 
 he drew up under the armpits and crossed 
 them at the back of the neck, giving- one end 
 to the Professor and keeping one himself. 
 Then, when they pulled apart, the cross 
 ing of the belt supported Barton s head. 
 " Now! "cried Ramon; and pulling strongly 
 the two dragged the heavy form along the 
 snow to the edge of the steep slope. The 
 Professor s face was purple, and drops of 
 blood beaded his finger tips. 
 
 "Let me, senor ! " said the boy; and 
 taking both ends of the belt over his shoul 
 der, he went plunging down the declivity, 
 Barton s limp head bumping against his 
 legs, and Barton s body and heels dragging 
 in the soft snow just enough to act as a 
 brake. As for the Professor, he stumbled 
 after as best he could, with vague eyes and 
 bursting veins and treacherous legs. Some 
 times he fell forward and plowed a rod in 
 the snow, and once he was beginning to 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 59 
 
 roll, but Ramon leaped and stopped him 
 just in time. 
 
 And so at last they came to the end of the 
 snow. The boy laid his -burden upon the 
 matted grass, with head up-hill, and piled a 
 little drift of snow about the head. " Put 
 it so, also, to your head," said he, "and I will 
 bring- the mules." 
 
 With that he was racing- off down the hill 
 in knowing- zig-zag s, thoug-h it looked too 
 steep for a goat. 
 
 In half an hour a very tired boy was get- 
 ting- two helpless men upon two almost 
 helpless mules. Perhaps if the latter had 
 been able to object, he could not have suc 
 ceeded. But by the help of the slope, and 
 hauling with his belt over the saddle from 
 the down-hill side, he presently had both 
 up. Barton s feet he tied together under 
 the mule, and Barton s hands around its 
 neck. The Professor could sit up, in a 
 stupid way, and Ramon tied only his feet. 
 "Hold well ! " he cried loudly and sternly, 
 but with the same little quiver in his voice ; 
 and taking both bridle reins in one hand, he 
 plunged down the hill, his weight thrown 
 forward upon the hard bits, so that the re 
 luctant mules had no choice but to follow. 
 
 The only one who remembers much of 
 that grim journey is Ramon, and as he is 
 
60 A Boy of the Andes. 
 
 not much given to talking-, no one knows 
 just what he does think of it. The Profes 
 sor s clear recollection begins with finding 
 himself on board the train at Casapalca a 
 train of that most wonderful railroad in the 
 world, the railroad above the clouds, that 
 clambers up and burrows throug-h the cor- 
 dillera of Peru. Before that are only hazy 
 memories of a vast mountain wall leaning- 
 over to crush him ; a winding- path in the 
 air; a queer, boy s voice, coming- from no 
 where, with little Spanish words of cheer. 
 And now a round, brown face from the op 
 posite seat was watching him seriously 
 even tenderly, the Professor fancied 
 while the burly conductor was saying: 
 
 "I never seen it come any closer! How 
 ever the boy got you in, beats my time. 
 And I saw he hated to leave you, so I says 
 to him, says I, Just get in, sonny, n go 
 down to Lima with us, n I 11 fetch you 
 back if I lose my job! He s the right sort, 
 he is! An you 11 be all right, as soon as 
 you get down there that s the only medi 
 cine for the S rochy." 
 
 All right they were next day in the capi 
 tal. Even Barton was able to sit up ; and he 
 nodded weakly as the Professor said to 
 Ramon : 
 
A Boy of the Andes. 61 
 
 " My boy, I would like you to go with us. 
 We have to travel much in Peru ; and if you 
 will accompany us you will earn good wages. 
 And you shall be as my son. For neither of 
 us would be alive now if we had not had a 
 little hero with us. Will you come? " 
 
 Joy flashed over Ramon s face. But then 
 it faded, and tears started in his eyes as he 
 said simply : 
 
 " You are good, Excellency 1 I would go 
 anywhere with you. But in the Chin-chan 
 is my mother, with the babies; and since 
 father died, I must be the man, for Sancho 
 is too young. AdiosI" 
 
 And he ran out, so that they should not 
 see him crying. 
 
A Daughter of the Misti 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 NOT the elder daughter, whom all the 
 world knows where she sits, white 
 upon her little green patch against the 
 hopeless desert, looking up with now and 
 then a shiver at the white-headed giant, her 
 father. No, the one I mean now is some 
 thing like three hundred and fifty years 
 younger than the Misti s first born and 
 favorite, and not white at all, nor over- 
 dignified, nor even given to much thought 
 as to when taita * shall shrug again those 
 mighty shoulders and rattle the walls about 
 her ears. In fact, to look at the two the 
 fat, brown, clumsy cholo girl and the shin 
 ing city I dare say you would never take 
 Transita and Arequipaf for sisters at all. 
 But as both are daughters of the Misti, I see 
 no other way out of it. 
 
 What! You don t know either of them? 
 Hm ! Of course it could hardly be expected 
 that you should be acquainted with Tran- 
 
 * The Aymard and Quichua Indian word for father. 
 t Ah-re-fcee-pa. 
 
66 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 sita, for she lives on a back street on the 
 other side of the river and comes very sel 
 dom to the plaza. And probably you could 
 not talk with her, anyhow, since her speech 
 is only Spanish and Quichua. But not to 
 know Arequipa why. that is to count out 
 the prettiest city in Peru, and one of the 
 oldest in America. And if you do not know 
 the daughter you have missed the father, 
 too, which is an even greater pity for 
 he is one of the handsomest giants on earth, 
 though a baby in his own family. Well, 
 well the sooner I give you an introduc 
 tion the better, then. 
 
 The Misti is an inactive but living vol 
 cano, a hundred miles from the sea, in 
 southern Peru. As I have said, it ranks 
 small at home, being only 19,300 feet tall, 
 while some of its brother Andes tower to 
 26,000 feet. But few of them are so hand 
 some. It stands alone and erect, with head 
 up and shoulders squared, while some of 
 them look as if the nurse had dropped them 
 in their babyhood and they had never got 
 their spines straight again. It is a huge 
 and very perfect cone, symmetrical as the 
 sacred peak of Japan, but vastly higher. 
 So steep is it that the thick blanket of vol 
 canic cinders would surely slip down from 
 its shoulders, except for the long brooches 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 67 
 
 of dead lava that pin it up. As for its head, 
 that is old with eternal snow. 
 
 For time unknown since long- before 
 history the Misti has been the best known 
 mountain in Peru; and I do not much won 
 der. It has a nobility of its own, such as its 
 mightier brethren do not all possess. Just 
 to its right vast Charchani climbs 20,000 
 feet into the sky, and a most majestic peak 
 it is. Just to its left towers the grand wall 
 of Pichu-pichu, itself taller than the greatest 
 mountain in the United States. But it is 
 always the lone, solemn Misti, to which 
 every one looks, of which every one speaks 
 with a strange mixture of love and awe. 
 Meeting an Arequipeno abroad, you might 
 very likely fancy there were no other mount 
 ains in sight of his home; but you will not 
 be left long in ignorance that there is a 
 Misti. Even before Europeans knew of 
 America, the remarkable Indians of Peru 
 half worshiped the Misti; and so Arequipa 
 gets its name, an Aymara word which 
 means "with the peak behind it." Far up 
 its deadly sides they toiled to make their 
 sacrifices to Those Above ; and even in the 
 elder crater I have counted the ruins of 
 aboriginal shrines. It is so isolated, so in 
 dividual, so majestic in its awful stature; 
 and above all, while its neighbor brothers 
 
68 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 are just mountains, it has a soul the won 
 drous fire-soul of the volcano. 
 
 A stern father is the Misti. His daugh 
 ter is surely not undutiful, but many a time 
 he has punished her sorely. Many a time 
 he has sent her sprawling- in the dust, and 
 turned her smiling- whiteness to a genera- 
 tion of mourning-. So, even as late as 1868 
 over half the buildings of Arequipa went 
 down in a mortal chaos of stone, killing 1 as 
 many people as fall in an ordinary battle. 
 
 One might fancy that such a parent would 
 get himself disliked; but his severity does 
 not seem to be laid up against him. Are 
 quipa loves the Misti and as for Transita, 
 she loved him even more than she did Are 
 quipa. Their house faced south, but the first 
 thing in the morning Transita used to climb 
 to the stone-arched roof to look at the peak 
 black against the rising sun; and the last 
 thing at evening to watch the rosy west- 
 glow upon that venerable head. And always 
 she wondered the more, for now as she 
 grew taller, and the untaught soul had room 
 to swell, she saw more and more in that 
 great dark one with his elephant-wrinkled 
 hide and the lava scars on his white head, 
 and now and then, of a hushed dawn, the 
 ghost of a cloud floating plume-like from 
 his brow. Perhaps it was because he is so 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 69 
 
 incomprehensible a giant that she compre 
 hended him in that child way which is 
 more at home in some mysteries than we 
 older stupids are. At all events, she turned 
 to him for companionship and confidences, 
 and had a way of talking- with him ever so 
 softly, that no one else should hear. 
 
 "Now, taita" she was whispering 1 this 
 morning 1 , "hast thou heard what is to be? 
 For they say that the Tuerto^ the cross 
 eyed, who oppressed us before, is to make 
 new revolution, that he may be president 
 again and rob himself still richer. And it 
 has always been in Arequipa that they 
 beg-in. Dost thou think it? And would 
 they kill Eugenio? For he is very loyal, 
 and is one of importance, being 1 a corporal. 
 Do not let them hurt my brother wilt 
 thou, taita?" 
 
 To all these questions and the adjuration 
 the giant answered never a word. His face 
 was grave with the morning shadows. To 
 look at him no one but Transita would 
 have dreamed he knew anything about it. 
 
 Nor do I really know that he did, though 
 he had the best of opportunities. From 
 that lookout in the sky, so overtopping the 
 town, he could see right into the high-walled 
 court of Don Telesfor s mansion. It was a 
 flat old courtyard, paved with tipsy blocks of 
 
70 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 stone and framed four-square with long- 
 shadowy verandas of the white sillar.* In 
 the center was a long--forg-otten fountain, 
 and at the middle of each side a quaint 
 staircase of the same white tufa ran up to 
 the cracked and precarious sillar roof. No 
 one was to be seen about the .court. Only, 
 along- the eastern portal^ was a long- ridg-e 
 of fresh earth. 
 
 Don Telesfor was making- repairs. A 
 great many people in Arequipa had long- 
 been free to say that he oug-ht to mend his 
 ways, and the old place mig-ht certainly 
 count as a way that should be mended. His 
 career as prefect, years before, had been 
 by no means free from charg-es of extor 
 tion and thievery, and it was notorious that 
 he would be glad to see ag-ain in the presi 
 dential chair the unscrupulous usurper who 
 had grown from pauper soldier to many- 
 times millionaire in one term. For this 
 reason Don Telesfor was as little beloved 
 as his old patron; and poor cholos, with 
 better love than understanding- of free 
 dom, took malicious pleasure in laying- the 
 scourg-e to their two backs jointly. " Look 
 at the Caceristl" they would growl audibly 
 
 *Seel-yar. A very light volcanic stone quarried on the 
 side of the volcano. All Arequipa is built of it. 
 tPor-tal The Spanish veranda. 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 71 
 
 when Don Telesfor thundered down the 
 reeling- cobblestones on his silver trapped 
 horse. As for his house, I fancy not one of 
 them ever passed it after nightfall, with a 
 bit of chalk in his pocket (and chalk is the 
 last thing- to be without in Peru during- a 
 campaig-n), but he stopped and scrawled in 
 elastic Spanish upon the outer wall : "Death 
 to the tyrant and his leeches! Down with 
 the cross-eyed ! " 
 
 But thoug-h he was unpopular in person 
 and politics, no one thought of taking- Don 
 Telesfor very seriously. Like his patron, 
 he had turned tail when the Chilean wolves 
 came down on the fold ; and unlike him, his 
 caution was greater than his greed. Every 
 one knew him for timorous. The unhappy 
 republic was torn and pale with fear of a 
 new usurpation; but in all the whisperings 
 and the glances over the shoulder, Don 
 Telesfor was quite forgotten. Since the 
 downfall of the pretender he had been 
 quietly cultivating his pretty chacra at 
 Yura, and now even thought to patch up 
 the old mansion in Arequipa, long tousled 
 and neglected since the terrible temblor of 
 68. This was praiseworthy and reassur 
 ing, too. In those troublous times to think 
 rather of beautifying and restoring the 
 home was clearly a pledge of peace. 
 
72 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 Sober burros, each laden with two big 
 white blocks of sillar, had been trudging 
 down from the lofty quarries, and the tot 
 tering- arches of the courtyard had been re 
 built. Now, Don Telesfor was hauling rich 
 soil all the way from his plantation to make 
 flower beds in the patio.* Some felt that 
 the soil of Arequipa ought to be good enough 
 for any flower; but if he chose to haul dirt 
 twelve miles instead of one, that was his 
 lookout. So the crazy wagons creaked 
 across the ancient stone bridge every after 
 noon and bumped into the courtyard, and 
 were relieved of their mules. Don Telesfor 
 was always on hand in person to attend to 
 the unloading he and his nephew, Don 
 Beltran, and two old peons while the 
 drivers took their animals to the actquia. 
 One would have thought that loam sacred, 
 by the care he took of it. 
 
 Just now the big gates were shut. The 
 wagons would not be in from Yura for some 
 time yet. Along the east side of the patio 
 was the long mound of soil, paling in the 
 hot sun; aside from that, one might have 
 thought the place abandoned. 
 
 But if one could have peered through the 
 heavy doors of the middle room of the north 
 portal one would have seen Don Telesfor 
 
 *Po/i-tee-o; courtyard. 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 73 
 
 and Don Beltran and half a dozen strangers 
 talking- low and earnestly. The windows 
 and even the skylight were shuttered, and 
 the one candle sent strange shadows 
 sprawling over a formidable row of long, 
 shallow, iron-bound boxes stained with 
 fresh earth. 
 
 " To-morrow night, then, " said one of the 
 strangers, laying his hand on Don Teles- 
 for s shoulder. " Even so it will begin in 
 Lima on the eve of the new congress, and 
 all is set that the revolution burst in the 
 same hour in Truxillo, Cuzco, here and all 
 Peru. And carrying it off well here in the 
 south, who knows but Don Telesfor shall 
 earn a place in the new cabinet? " 
 
 " Ojala ! " sighed Don Telesfor, his mouth 
 twitching greedily. "At all events, this 
 end is safe. I promise you no one so much 
 as suspects us, and with the two hundred 
 men that will sleep here to-night hidden, 
 we can easily put down any resistance. 
 The gudrdias are the only danger; for, 
 being cholos* they all worship Pierola, and 
 it avails not the trying to buy them. The 
 only argument with such stupids is to rap 
 them the back of the head and for that, 
 thirty secure men are appointed to hide 
 upon the beat and silence each his police- 
 Indian half-breeds. 
 
74 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 man. By midnight that should all be set 
 tled without noise, and then we will fall 
 upon the barracks. A hundred soldiers, 
 asleep, have nothing- to say with us; and in 
 the morning- Arequipa will waken to find 
 herself in our ranks." 
 
 4 No thing- lacks, then?" 
 
 "Nothing-. All is understood. Forty 
 rifles are still to come, but they will be here 
 in an hour, or maybe two, for the carts 
 move slowly." 
 
 " And then the flower beds will be done, 
 no?" chuckled the other with a wink. 
 
 "Aye, and ready to bloom," answered 
 Don Telesfor, smiling- grimly at the jest. 
 
 "And, methinks, with enough thorns 
 ay did si What?" 
 
 For a deep, far roar crept through the 
 closed shutters; a Babel of howling curs 
 and crowing cocks and the jangle of church 
 bells. Before one could fairly turn to look 
 at his neighbor it was as if that whole room 
 of stone had suddenly been dropped twenty 
 feet, as one might drop a bird cage to the 
 floor. The heavy boxes and the standing 
 men and the massive furniture were tossed 
 as feathers in a gust of air. The wide 
 stone vault overhead yawned and let in a 
 foot of sky, and shivered as if to fall, and 
 then as swiftly clapped its ragged teeth 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 75 
 
 shut again, while a great dust filled the 
 room to choking. Then all was still as the 
 grave, and for a few seconds nothing moved. 
 At last the men scrambled to their feet, 
 pale and hushed, and stood looking blankly 
 at one another. 
 
 " Ea! But I like not your Arequipa tem 
 perament," faltered the tallest of the stran 
 gers. "It is too impulsive. Not if you 
 gave me three Arequipas would I dwell 
 here!" 
 
 " Pues, it is nothing," answered Don 
 Telesfor, coolly. "Only in the being ac 
 customed. These temblores are fearsome, 
 but we think little of them. To the street, 
 when the shock comes, lest the walls thump 
 us on the heads; and then back into the 
 house, as if there had been nothing. As 
 for this one, it is a good omen. El Misti 
 gives us the hand that he is with us for an 
 overturning." 
 
 Transita, sitting upon the stone coping of 
 her own roof, had a clearer view of the 
 earthquake, and her opinion certainly did 
 not coincide with that of Don Telesfor. It 
 was a perfect day, as most days in Are 
 quipa are, but something in the air made 
 her nervous and ill at ease, and all the 
 morning she had been perched up there 
 
76 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 confiding- her fears to the great peak. Be. 
 low, the street was still echoing- the rumble 
 of clumsy carts high heaped with earth. 
 She had paid little attention to them or their 
 clamor. Her thoug-hts were for Eugenio, 
 and her anxiety about him seemed to grow. 
 So g-roundlessly, too. The national unrest 
 was everywhere, but vague and undefined. 
 No one knew any specific cause for alarm, 
 and she least of all. Now, if her ears had 
 been sharp enough to hark across to that 
 barred room a mile away, where Don Teles- 
 for was at that very moment saying: " The 
 only argument with such stupids is to rap 
 them the back of the head." And "such 
 stupids " meant precisely Eugenio and his 
 fellow-soldiers, the military police of the 
 city. 
 
 Six wagons had already turned the cor 
 ner toward the bridge and were out of sight. 
 As the straggling seventh and.last trundled 
 past the house the teamster, seeing that 
 squat figure up there, tossed at it a pebble 
 from his load. Transita only shrugged her 
 shoulder at the tap. She was too busy with 
 her thoughts to so much as turn around. 
 "Much care of Eugenio," she murmured. 
 "And if truly there be of these Cacerists 
 here, confound them, taital " 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 77 
 
 As she raised her eyes to the great peak 
 a swift chill ran through her. She was sure 
 the Misti nodded, as if he had heard her 
 words. Surely the giant moved I Far spurts 
 of dust rose from his shoulders, and dark 
 masses came leaping- down, and the great 
 profile seemed to lose its sharpness. She 
 winked hard to be sure of her eyes, and now 
 the Misti moved no more. But from the 
 corrals roundabout rose a bedlam; and 
 Chopo ran out, barking frantically, and the 
 ancient cottonwoods up by the mill sudden 
 ly bowed their heads as to a hurricane. 
 The aclquia bank split and the stream came 
 panicking out. The tall wall back of Eu- 
 sebio s house was rent from top to bottom, 
 and two-foot blocks of sillar flew all about. 
 The very roof on which she sat a massive 
 arch of stone, as are nearly all the roofs of 
 Arequipa went up and down as if a heavy 
 wave had passed under it. The coping 
 spilled into the street; and Transita was 
 left clinging on the broken edge, her face 
 hanging over. There were wild screams, 
 and every one stood, as by magic, in the 
 middle of the street, looking up at the tot 
 tering walls. And in the self-same breath 
 it was all done, and no sign was left save the 
 shattered blocks of stone, the truant atiquia 
 
78 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 and a tall cloud of yellow dust that went 
 bellying- off toward Charchani. 
 
 Yes, one thing- more. Transita lay be 
 wildered a moment, and then began to look 
 about, still without moving-. Every one was 
 going- back into the houses, laughing ner 
 vously, a few children crying-. In another 
 moment the street was deserted. It was as 
 if that thousand people had been a return- 
 ball, to pop one instant into sig-ht, and in 
 another back with the recoil of the elastic. 
 But down by the empty hovels over the way 
 was a cart, broken across in halves. Two 
 dazed mules were trying- clumsily to rig-ht 
 themselves with the forward end of the 
 wreck, while the rear half was tossed up on 
 the narrow sidewalk against the ruined 
 walls. The load of earth had been uncere 
 moniously dumped into the g-utter, and the 
 cholo driver, half overwhelmed by it, lay 
 motionless along- the curb. 
 
 At that, Transita was upon her feet at 
 once, nor paused until she was tug-g-ing- at 
 the teamster s arms. The dirt was heaped 
 upon his legs, and he had fainted with the 
 pain, and such a dead weight she could not 
 budge. She dropped the limp shoulders and 
 began to claw the loose earth away. In a 
 moment the left foot was free; but as she 
 dragged it out, the dirt slipped down and 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 79 
 
 revealed the corner of an iron-bound box 
 resting 1 upon the other leg-. A sudden im 
 pulse led her to sweep back the soil until 
 the end of the case was uncovered. The 
 funny black marks there meant nothing- to 
 Transita indeed, if any one had spelled 
 out for her the "M-a-double-n-1-i-c-h-e-r," I 
 seriously doubt if that grewsome German 
 name would have made her any the wiser. 
 But if she did not know letters from ten- 
 penny nails, and was equally ignorant of 
 the inventions and the existence of Ger 
 many, Transita was no fool. For a moment 
 her brown face looked more than usually 
 dull. Then a slow grayness crept into it, 
 and there was a hitch in her breath. 
 
 She looked up at the Misti appealingly, 
 and then down at the box, staring- as if fas 
 cinated. Presently the rather heavy jaw 
 set stubbornly. She lifted the corner of 
 the box an inch, by a violent effort, pried 
 her shin against the sharp edg-e to hold it, 
 and laboriously drag-g-ed out the imprisoned 
 foot. Then she scraped the earth over 
 until the box was well hidden ag-ain, and 
 leaving- the liberated but unconscious team 
 ster where he lay, went racing 1 down the 
 street like one g-one daft. 
 
 " This is a pretty story to bring- to the 
 cuartel, daug-hterling-, " said Captain Yrri- 
 
8o A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 barri, fifteen minutes later. Corporal Eu- 
 genio had no sooner heard his sister s 
 breathless message than he brought her 
 before the commanding officer, and there 
 she had rehearsed it all, unshaken by ques 
 tionings and banter. "It has to be true," 
 she declared, over and over, "else mi taita 
 Misti never would have showed me." 
 
 "A girl s nonsense," the grave officer 
 repeated. * * And still what do any boxes, 
 thus hidden in loads of earth, and in these 
 times? I mind me, now, that Don Telesfor 
 has been hauling earth all the way from 
 Yura these many weeks, when there is 
 better at Carmen Alto. It is fit to be looked 
 into, and by the saints, if thy guess is true, 
 little one, thou shalt be corporal, or thy 
 brother sergeant! Oyes, Eugenio! With 
 a squad of thirty men surround Don Teles- 
 for s house and hold it tight that it leak not, 
 while Pedro goes with five to verify the 
 cart and the box. If that is nothing, they 
 will report to you and you will return to 
 quarters with the tongue behind the teeth; 
 but if they shall find arms in the cart, keep 
 the house and warn me." 
 
 For my own part, I do not overly love the 
 soldier-police of Arequipa, and have some 
 times been angry enough to want to choke 
 them for murdering my sleep with their 
 
A Daughter of the Misti. 81 
 
 abominable midnight whistles. But after 
 all, I am glad that they were not all knocked 
 on the head the night after the earthquake ; 
 for in spite of their ignorance and their skin 
 and their ear-piercing- way of announcing 
 "All s well," they are a kindly, honest, 
 well meaning- set, who could be much better 
 utilized than by clubbing-. And particularly 
 Eugenio, who is a very good boy and likes 
 to talk with me, calling me "your grace." 
 He has told me many interesting things, 
 and often sent a cholo to " tote " my heavy 
 camera around. Sergeant Eugenio now, 
 please for Transita declined to be a cor 
 poral when the search revealed not only the 
 one case of Mannlicher rifles in the dirt 
 under the wrecked cart, but thirty cases 
 more in Don Telesfor s house, along with 
 papers which left no doubt of his treason. 
 Some fellow-conspirator must have warned 
 him in time of the wayside accident, for 
 though Eugenio and his men kept the house 
 fully surrounded until a report came from 
 the cart, when they broke in there was not 
 a soul to be found. 
 
 None of the other plotters were known, 
 and Don Telesfor eluded pursuit. It may 
 or may not be true, as I have been told, that 
 he took asylum in Bolivia and was after 
 ward drowned in trying to ford the Choque- 
 
82 A Daughter of the Misti. 
 
 yapu during- a freshet; but, at all events, 
 he never came back to revive his nipped 
 revolution. 
 
 As for Transita, you might just as well 
 try to tell her that the Misti is not there at 
 all as that "He " did not specially and in 
 tentionally interpose to save the peace of 
 his daughters and the head of Eugenio. I 
 half believe her brother is secretly of the 
 same opinion, for the superstition of the 
 peak is very strong in Arequipa; though he 
 shrug s his shoulders in a deprecatory way 
 when put the direct question, and says eva 
 sively : 
 
 " Pues, who knows? So the women de 
 clare. For me it is enough that he did it, 
 and in time, the same as if he knew." 
 
The Witch Deer 
 
The Witch Deer. 
 * 
 
 C H U ! sta-te !" cried Josefa,* 
 straightening- up from her work 
 and looking- severely at a small brown 
 rog-ue who had climbed up to the little shelf 
 over the corner fireplace. The adobe floor 
 was spattered with big- drops of water, to 
 lay the dust ; and Josefa, bent half double 
 to reach it with the short wisp of broom 
 corn which serves in New Mexican homes, 
 was sweeping- toward the door the fine 
 gray powder that works up daily from the 
 compact clay. 
 
 "Give me that little stone, nana" beg-g-ed 
 the boy. "The one tata carries in his 
 pouch when he g-oes to hunt." 
 
 " Get away, quick, for that is the charm 
 of the Magic Deer ! Much care ! For if 
 ever thou touch that, thy grandfather will 
 seetothee!" 
 
 Anastacio clambered down reluctantly 
 from the old chair, and went outside to play 
 with the burro. But the stone weig-hed on 
 
 * Uo-say-f a. 85 
 
86 The Witch Deer. 
 
 his mind. It was a very ordinary-looking 
 pebble, gray, light, porous, and without any 
 particular shape looking, in fact, like one 
 of the pieces of pumice which were so com 
 mon in the mountains. But somehow it 
 had a fascination for Anastacio. And that 
 evening, when we all sat by the crackling 
 fire, he climbed on his grandfather s knee 
 and said : 
 
 u Go, tata, tell me what is this stone of 
 the Magic Deer, that I may not play with 
 it." 
 
 "To play with that?" exclaimed Don 
 Jose, in a tone of horror. " Child! That 
 little stone is very precious. For no other 
 hunter in New Mexico has the like ; and if it 
 were lost or broken, we should be ruined, 
 since only with it is it possible to kill the 
 deer which are enchanted, as are many. 
 And to get that stone I passed a sad time." 
 
 "How? Where? When? With the En 
 chanted Deer? Tell me, tatital" 
 
 "Yes, with the Venado Encantado, and in 
 many ways." And Don Jose, the luckiest 
 hunter in Rio Arriba, a gray-headed but 
 sharp-eyed Mexican whom I count a 
 staunch friend and a brave man, even if he 
 does believe some things I do not nodded 
 to me, as if for permission to tell the story. 
 I had often heard of the Witch Deer, and 
 
The Witch Deer. 87 
 
 knew that a very large proportion of the 
 natives of New Mexico believe firmly in 
 this and in many other forms of witchcraft. 
 I knew, too, that Don Jose was a scrupu 
 lously truthful man. The years of our ac 
 quaintance had proved that beyond doubt. 
 Whatever in his story might be super 
 natural would have to be charged to his 
 faith, and not to any intention of deceiving. 
 
 " You must know, Don Carlos," said he, 
 "that while there are many witches here, 
 there is one kind that delights most to vex 
 hunters. Without doubt you also will have 
 seen the Enchanted Deer, as much as you 
 hunt." 
 
 "No," I answered. "I have never seen 
 one, but I have heard of them all over New 
 Mexico these five years." 
 
 "Sure ! For there are many ; and many 
 have lost their lives thereby, for the Witch 
 Deer is more dangerous than bear or moun 
 tain lion. Only when one has the stone 
 which they wear in the first fork of their 
 horns is it possible to conquer them, for 
 that makes one not to be seen." 
 
 "But I can see you, Don Jose," I inter 
 rupted, smiling, as he held up the magic 
 stone. 
 
 " But, friend, that is different I For it is 
 only in its use. Now I want you to see me ; 
 
88 The Witch Deer. 
 
 but when I carry this no deer in the sierra 
 has eyes for me, and I could walk even up 
 to them, taking- care only that they scented 
 me not." 
 
 It is worse than useless to argue against 
 these beliefs. Don Jose would never be 
 convinced, and the incredulity of a friend 
 could only hurt his feelings, and, besides 
 being ill-mannered, further caviling would 
 lose me a story, so I said, simply: 
 
 "All right, compadre, tell us all about it." 
 "Well, then, thus it was, and you shall see 
 I am right. It makes many years now, for 
 it was long before I married me with Josefa, 
 in the year of 67. Her father was Alcalde 
 of Abiquiu*; and there lived my parents 
 also. When I was a young man, already 
 grown, strong as you may yet see and 
 well taught in the ways of hunting, I came 
 often to these mountains for game ; and our 
 house was never without dried meat in 
 plenty. There was one that hunted with 
 me, and they always called him Cabezudo, 
 because of his strong head ; but in truth he 
 was Luis Delgado, a cousin of me. In 
 heart we were as brothers, and either 
 would give his life for the other. Often the 
 old men of Abiquiu told us of the Witch 
 Deer, which could never be killed unless by 
 
 * Pronounced Abby-fcetu. 
 
The Witch Deer. 89 
 
 a hunter unseen ; and Luis answered al 
 ways: Aha ! When there is a deer too strong 
 for this rifle, let him eat me/ For, you see, 
 he believed not in witches. This was the 
 only thing- we ever quarreled about that he 
 was without faith. 
 
 "It came that in October of the year 60 
 we were together camped in the Valles, and 
 with much care, since the Navajos were 
 bad. We had a house of logs, very strong, 
 and in it already was a wonder of dried 
 meat of deer and bear. We went forth 
 always together, for fear of the Indians, 
 but by good luck they molested us not. As 
 for game, I think there was never such a 
 year. 
 
 "One day, when the first snow was three 
 hours old, we came to a round mesa that 
 stood on the plateau, and near the foot of it 
 were tracks of a deer. But alas ! I knew 
 then that it was no true deer, for its foot 
 prints were great as those of a horse. It 
 will be the Venado Encantado, said I to 
 Luis. Let us go the other way! But he 
 said : * What Enchanted Deer, nor yet what 
 mouse-traps ? Get out ! I thought thee a 
 man ! Thou that only yesterday didst kill, 
 with dagger alone, the great she-bear, and 
 nowwouldst run from a deer track ! And 
 it was true ; for since the bear, well 
 
90 The Witch Deer. 
 
 wounded, was upon us before there was 
 room to reload, I had the luck to compose 
 her with my hunting-knife. 
 
 "Wrong- of me it was, but I had shame 
 at the words of Luis, and followed him. 
 * Truly this is grandfather of all the deer ! 
 he cried. For never have I seen such 
 tracks. And his horns we will take to Abi- 
 quiu, though they shall weigh like a tree. 
 Come on I* 
 
 "With that we pursued the tracks, won 
 dering always at their greatness. They 
 went a little around the foot of the mesa, 
 and then up a steep way to its top. When 
 we came to the top, where was a cleft in the 
 rocks, so that one could get up, we found a 
 large level place, round, and with a rim of 
 cliffs below, so that nowhere else was it 
 possible to reach the summit. The trail 
 went away among the junipers, and we fol 
 lowed it cautiously, knowing that the deer 
 must be here, since no tracks led down. 
 And of a sudden, crawling around a clump 
 of trees, we stood before him. Ay, senor ! 
 How great he was ! Great as a tall horse, 
 and upon his head the keys [horns] were as 
 the branches of a blasted cedar. There he 
 stood, a thing of fifty yards away, looking 
 at us with his head high, as if mocking. 
 My heart forgot its count ; for truly he was 
 
The Witch Deer. 91 
 
 no thing- of this earth that beast with a 
 look so cunning- and so terrible. 
 
 " What a beast! Luis whispered. At 
 the throat, to break his neck. But save 
 thou thy fire, for in case and putting his 
 rifle firm as a rock, he fired. But as the 
 smoke blew by, there stood the deer, wag- 
 g-ing- himself the head scornfully, for the 
 bullet had rebounded from him. So it is 
 with these beasts that are witches, for when 
 they see you, no ball will enter their hide. 
 And then, putting- down his head till that 
 the horns lacked but a foot from the ground, 
 he came like a larg-e rock leaping- down the 
 mountain. 
 
 " Now I knew well that he was no mortal 
 thing-, and that I had no rig-ht to shoot. But 
 for sake of Luis, who was pouring- new pow 
 der in his rifle, I cared not even if I should 
 be accursed ; and when the beast was very 
 close I sprang- to one side and gave him the 
 ball, of an ounce weight, squarely upon the 
 side. But it could not enter him. Luis 
 jumped, too, and the brute passed between 
 us like a strong wind. In a moment he 
 turned and charged us again, and lam sure 
 I saw smoke come from his nose. As for 
 his eyes, they were pure fire. Run for 
 yourself! cried Luis, and he made for the 
 tree, while I took the other way. Turning 
 
92 The Witch Deer. 
 
 a juniper, I ran for the edge of the cliff; but 
 just as I came there, there was a scream, 
 and looking- across my shoulder, I saw the 
 deer making- with his horns as one does 
 with his spade upon hard ground. 
 
 "After that I could go no more to our 
 camp, but came straightway to Abiquiu. 
 When they heard what had been, all the 
 town mourned for Luis was well beloved. 
 But none were surprised, for they said: 
 * Always we told him of the Venado Encan- 
 tado, but he would not believe. And now 
 it has come true. Poor headstrong Luis 1* 
 
 " As for me, I sickened, and was much 
 time in bed. And always I saw the deer 
 leaping upon Luis and tearing him, until it 
 was not to be borne. When at last I was 
 cured, I could think only to kill the Witch 
 Deer, and avenge my poor companero. I 
 asked of all the old men if there was how 
 to do it; but all said, Beware, lest he tram 
 ple thee also! And Josefa prayed me to 
 think no more of it, for she would never 
 marry one who put himself against the 
 witches. I know not how, Don Carlos, for 
 I too feared, but Luis would not let me rest. 
 
 "Twice I went alone to the mesa, for 
 no one would companion me. There was 
 always the deer; but I kept under the 
 rocks, where he could not reach me, and 
 
The Witch Deer. 93 
 
 waited my turn. Once, when my aim was 
 true upon his heart, the rifle only snapped; 
 and when I went to prime with double care, 
 the flint was all in cracks, so that it would 
 not strike a spark. And again, when I shot 
 him between the very eyes, from near, it 
 did him nothing-. So I saw it was useless. 
 
 "From then all went ill. Even the wild 
 turkeys had no fear of me, for I could shoot 
 nothing-. And in Abiquiu I was mocked, 
 for the young- men had been jealous that 
 formerly I had killed more g-ame than any, 
 and now they taunted me for the starved 
 hunter. 
 
 "At the last I thoug-ht me of one who 
 lived in the canon of Juan Tafoya a witch, 
 they say, very wise in such thing s and to 
 him I went. When he had heard my story, 
 he said: But, man! knowest thou not that 
 this is the Venado Encantado ? How dost 
 thou think to kill him? For he has in his 
 horns a stone of great power, having- the 
 which he cannot be harmed. There is only 
 one way in which it could be done, and that 
 is to shoot him when he sees thee not. But 
 that, even the best hunter cannot do, for 
 the animal is very wise and of sharp sig-ht. 
 Only having- an invisible stone could one 
 do it. 
 
94 The Witch Deer. 
 
 " And have other deer this stone? I 
 asked ; and he replied : 4 There are some, 
 for this is not the only Witch Deer. But 
 none of them canst thou kill if they see 
 thee. 
 
 "After that they saw me little in Abi- 
 quiu, for I was always hunting-. For many 
 months I pursued the trail of every buck 
 deer, killing- many. And at last, shooting 
 from ambush one that passed me unsus 
 pecting, I found in the first fork of its 
 horns a stone like this, but not the half of it 
 in size. This I proved in many ways, and 
 clear it was that now my luck had changed. 
 
 " Being satisfied of this, then, I loaded my 
 rifle with great pains, and went one evening 
 in search of the Venado Encantado. Com 
 ing to the mesa by night, I camped among 
 the rocks, without a fire, and in the morning, 
 before the sun, climbed up without a little 
 noise. In my pouch was the stone, and my 
 rifle was well ready. When I came through 
 the cleft at the top, there stood the deer, 
 looking straight at me, not twenty yards 
 distant, and I threw my rifle to my shoulder, 
 giving myself up for lost. But he moved 
 not, and watching him, I perceived that he 
 did not see me at all the which is proof 
 that the stone makes one to be invisible. 
 At this I took heart, and with a true aim on 
 
The Witch Deer. 95 
 
 his throat, fired. He leaped thus high in 
 the air and fell dead ; and coming- to him, I 
 found that the ball had broken his neck. 
 
 "His meat I did not touch, for besides 
 being accursed, he had killed my Luis, whose 
 bones I brought away to Christian ground 
 in Abiquiu. But in the first fork of the 
 horns, which were taller than my head, I 
 found this stone which you see. Since I 
 have that, I kill whatsoever deer with ease, 
 because they cannot see me. What think 
 you, then? * 
 
 We sat for a few moments silent, watch 
 ing the flames that licked and twisted about 
 the cedar sticks in the fireplace. Anastacio 
 was voiceless, with an awe too strong even 
 for his boyish excitement; and as for me, 
 the story of Luis s death had brought back 
 some vivid and uncanny memories. But 
 Don Jose, who really cared enough for me to 
 wish to lead me out of the darkness of error, 
 followed the matter up. 
 
 " Do you not see, Don Carlos, that there 
 are Witch Deer? For look at his fierceness, 
 and that he could not be hurt until I had a 
 charm-stone like his own. And you know 
 that I tell you truth." 
 
 "Yes, old fellow, I know you tell me the 
 truth as you see it. But it is nothing 
 strange for a buck to be bravo in the fall 
 
96 The Witch Deer. 
 
 that I myself have suffered by. And I 
 fancy you could have killed him before, if 
 you had not felt so sure that you couldn t." 
 Then I was rather ashamed to have said 
 even so much, and as gently as it could be 
 said, for I do not admire the always-superior 
 person. But the old man understood, and 
 was not offended; only he shook his head 
 with real sadness, and said : 
 
 "Ah, that way was Luis. God keep you 
 from being taught as he wasl" 
 
Felipe s Sugaring-off 
 
Felipe s Sugaring-off. 
 
 THE great water-wheel was trundling 
 as fast as ever the white impulse from 
 the old stone aqueduct could kick it along. 
 The wheel, indeed, grumbled at so much 
 hard work; but the water only laughed and 
 danced as the big iron jaws of the trapiche* 
 chewed up the yellow culms of sugar cane 
 and spat to one side the useless pith, while 
 the sweet, dark sap crept sluggishly down 
 the iron conduit toward the sugar-house. 
 In front was a very mountain of cane 
 brought from the fields by bullock carts; 
 and half a dozen sinewy negroes were feed 
 ing it, an armful at a time, between the rolls 
 of the mill. Behind it others with wooden 
 forks were spreading the crushed cane to 
 dry for a day, after which it would be used 
 as fuel to boil its own plundered juice. Off 
 beyond the sugar building gleamed the 
 white Moorish walls of the tile-roofed chapel 
 and manor house, built three hundred years 
 ago, when Peru was the richest crown jewel 
 
 * Tra-pe-clie. 99 
 
ioo Felipe s Sugaring-off. 
 
 of Spain. Everywhere else stretched the 
 great fields of cane to the very foot of the 
 sandhills of the encroaching- desert, to the 
 very rim of the blue Pacific. What an im 
 mensity of sugar it all meant! 
 
 The same thought struck the grizzled 
 administrador* this morning as he stood on 
 a pier of the aqueduct just where its 
 stream pounced upon the lazy wheel and 
 swept the scene with those watchful old 
 eyes. " Of a truth," he was saying to him 
 self, "the world must be very large, as 
 they say, and many must eat nothing else, 
 for here we make every day forty thousand 
 pounds of sugar, three hundred days of 
 the year, and there are many other sugar 
 haciendas in Peru, though maybe none so 
 big as Villa. Truly, I know not where it all 
 goes. Holal Always that fellow!" and, 
 springing to the ground as lightly as a boy, 
 in two bounds he was at the mill. 
 
 There four of the negro laborers were in 
 sudden struggle with a newcomer from the 
 quarters a huge black fellow, whose brut 
 ish face was now distorted by drunken 
 rage. He was naked to the waist, and his 
 dark hide bulged with tremendous muscles, 
 as he swayed his four grapplers to and fro, 
 trying to free his right hand, which clasped 
 
 r Administrah-dore; overseer. 
 
Felipe s Sugaring-off. 101 
 
 a heavy machete. This murderous combi 
 nation of sword and cleaver, which lopped 
 the stubborn cane at a blow, had found 
 worse employment now, for a red stain ran 
 down its broad blade, and on the ground lay 
 a man clenching- a stump of arm. Old 
 Melito paused for no questions, but, pluck 
 ing- up a heavy bar of algarroba, smote so 
 strong-ly upon the desperado s woolly pate 
 that the ironwood broke. The black giant 
 reeled and fell, and one of the men wrenched 
 away the machete and flung- it into the pool 
 below the wheel. 
 
 " He came very drunk, and only because 
 Roque brushed ag-ainst him with an armful 
 of cane he wanted to kill him," said the men 
 as they knotted their grimy handkerchiefs 
 upon the wrists and ankles of the stunned 
 black. 
 
 "You did well to hold him," replied the 
 administrador. "Bring- now the irons and 
 we will put him in the calaboz till to-mor 
 row. Then he shall g-o to Lima to the 
 prison, for we can have no fig-hting- here, 
 nor men of trouble." 
 
 A slender, big--eyed Spanish boy coming- 
 out a few moments later from the great 
 castle arch of the manor house saw four 
 peons lug-ging- away between them the long 
 
IO2 Felipe s Sugaring-off. 
 
 bulk of the prisoner, and stopped to ask 
 the trouble. 
 
 "Ah ! That bad Coco. That he may 
 never come back from Lima," said the 
 young- Spaniard earnestly. "He is a terror 
 to all, and now I fear he will kill Don Melito, 
 for Coco never forgets. I shall ask my 
 father to see the prefect, that they keep 
 him away. And the sugar?" 
 
 Felipe never tired of following- all the 
 processes with a grave air, as if it all rested 
 upon his small shoulders. A boy who never 
 felt that he was "helping" if such a very 
 helpless boy ever existed has lost one of 
 the best things in all boyhood, and Felipe 
 could not have understood such a boy at all. 
 He went on now and joined Don Melito, 
 and the two stood together watching the 
 vat with professional eyes while two ne 
 groes plied their plashing hoes. It was very 
 hot work even to watch it, but a good admin- 
 istrador would never trust this to the labor 
 ers. 
 
 "Now you watch it a little," said Don 
 Melito suddenly, with roguish gravity, 
 looking at the boy s preoccupied face. "As 
 for me, I must see how are ihepailas," and 
 he climbed the steps to the platform where 
 the caldrons were hissing with their new 
 supply of sap. 
 
Felipe s Sugaring-off. 103 
 
 Felipe, thus left alone with the heaviest 
 responsibility he had ever borne, knit his 
 smooth brows very hard and peered into 
 the vat as if the fate of nations hung- on 
 his eyes. For the first time he began to 
 doubt them. He wondered if it were not 
 worked enough if he had not better stop 
 the hoes and get the molders to work. If 
 only Don Melito would come back and 
 decide for him! 
 
 But Don Melito was not here, and there 
 were no signs of his coming. Perhaps he 
 was leaving Felipe to find out the differ 
 ence between knowing how some one else 
 does a thing and how to do it one s self. 
 The boy fidgeted up and down and looked 
 at the vat first from one end and then from 
 the other, and grew more doubtful the more 
 he looked. 
 
 "I don t know, and I don t know" he 
 cried to himself. "But sure it is that I 
 must do something, for he left me in charge 
 and perhaps is busy with other matters, 
 thinking I would not let it be spoiled. Put 
 it in the molds!" 
 
 The men leaned their candied hoes against 
 the wall. The molders began ladling their 
 buckets full, and, in turn, filling the shallow 
 molds. The color there darkened again as 
 sudden crystallization set in; but Felipe 
 
IO4 Felipe s Sugaring-off. 
 
 felt a great load lifted off his shoulders. 
 He was very sure now that it was a good 
 color not a hint of the hateful underdone 
 black, but a soft, rich brown, shading to 
 gold at the thin edges. 
 
 Now he was free the laborers could 
 attend to the rest, as usual and he would 
 go and hunt for Don Melito. He ran up the 
 steps and along the platform and half 
 way stopped short, as if he had run against 
 a wall. 
 
 The rusty irons should never have been 
 trusted with that giant s strength ! They 
 might do for common men, but for Coco 
 as soon as consciousness came back to him, 
 and with it the old rage, he had snapped 
 them, and, wrenching out the iron bars 
 from the window of the calaboz, had come 
 for his revenge. Even now he was shaking 
 his wrists, one still hooped with the iron 
 band, before the old administrador 1 s face, 
 and hissing: "You! You did me this I And 
 now I will boil you 1" 
 
 Don Melito stood still and gray as a stone, 
 looking up into Coco s eyes. His hat was in 
 his hand on account of the heat; but now he 
 put it on as if scorning to stand uncovered 
 before the fellow put it steadily upon the 
 curling gray hair that reached barely to the 
 level of those great naked chest muscles. 
 
Felipe s Sugaring-off. 105 
 
 "I did strike you down and ordered you 
 to be ironed, Coco," he said quietly, "and I 
 would do so again. Now I am going to send 
 you to Lima. There is no place at Villa for 
 people like you." 
 
 But Coco leaped upon him like the black 
 jaguar, and clutched him with those long, 
 knotted arms. Melito was sinewy and lithe 
 as a cat, but he was no match for this huge 
 foe. He fought for life, but Coco with the 
 equal desperation of hate. Struggle as he 
 would, he was borne back and back until his 
 legs cringed from the glow of the faila. 
 At this he made so wild a lunge that it bore 
 them back a few feet; but it was only for a 
 moment. Inch by inch the negro urged him 
 toward that bubbling roar which seemed to 
 drown all other sounds. And even now, 
 with a wild chuckle, the giant doubled him 
 backward against the edge of the paila^ 
 with a black, resistless palm under his chin. 
 
 Only an instant had Felipe stopped, 
 frozen, at sight of Coco; in another he had 
 sprung to the rail, shrieking to the men be 
 low: "Juan! Sancho! Quico! Come! " And 
 then, rushing at the struggle, he flung him 
 self as ferociously upon Coco as Coco had 
 attacked Don Melito. But it seemed as if 
 he were back in some dreadful dream. He 
 hammered with futile fists upon that bare 
 
io6 Felipe s Sugar! ng-ofF. 
 
 and mighty back, and caught a fierce hold 
 about one of those gnarled legs and tugged 
 to trip it, and kicked it with crazy feet. But 
 it was all with the nightmare sense that he 
 was doing nothing by all his efforts. Indeed, 
 it is half doubtful if the infuriated Coco 
 knew at all of this attack in the rear. What 
 to him were the peckings of a twelve-year- 
 old boy? 
 
 Would the men never come? Felipe re 
 doubled his kicks and blows, but with a 
 sickening fear. Don Melito was weaken 
 ing already his head was thrust back over 
 the steam of the paila. Only for his arms 
 locked about the giant s waist, he would go 
 in. And now Coco s huge hand came behind 
 him and wrenched at the old man s slender 
 ones, tearing open finger by finger resist- 
 lessly. In another moment it would be too 
 late to think. 
 
 Aha, Mr. Coco! The boy sprang to the 
 second paila and snatched the long-handled 
 skimmer that leaned against it, and, dip 
 ping it full from the caldron, flung the 
 molten sugar squarely upon Coco s back. 
 Howling, the negro whirled about, dropping 
 the half-senseless administrador from him, 
 and sprang at Felipe. But the boy stood 
 stiff and very white, holding the ladle back 
 aloft. " This time in the eyes 1 " he cried, 
 
Felipe s Sugaring-off. 107 
 
 hoarsely. " If you touch Don Melito again, 
 or me, I will throw it in your face ! " 
 
 Even Coco hesitated at this. He was not 
 too drunk with rage to know what boiling- 
 sugar meant. Plainly, this little fool had the 
 advantage. He must be tricked and then 
 
 . But just then a wan smile flitted across 
 
 Felipe s face, and, as Coco half turned his 
 head to see what pleasing thing could be be 
 hind him, he got a glimpse of Pancho, the 
 horse-breaker, and something dark and 
 wavy in the air. He ducked forward, but 
 a rope settled upon his broad shoulders, 
 tightening like iron, and he was jerked 
 backward to the ground, and a dozen men 
 were upon him. 
 
 Coco made no more trouble on the 
 hacienda of Villa. At Lima he found the 
 prompt justice which sometimes happens 
 in Peru. Don Melito was in bed several 
 days, for he had been roughly handled in 
 body and in nerves. The first day on which 
 he could sit up a little, Felipe brought him 
 a cake of chancaca. 
 
 "Thank you," said the old man, laying 
 it on the coverlet. Sugar was an old story 
 to him. 
 
 "But you must taste this, my administra- 
 dor, and see if it is all right." 
 
io8 Felipe s Sugaring-off. 
 
 "It is good," answered Melito, munching 
 submissively. And then, with a sudden 
 light: " It is very good as good as I could 
 have made myself. Quite right. And I 
 think you sent it to the molds at just the 
 right time I" 
 
Andres, the Arriero 
 
Andres the Arriero. 
 i. 
 
 4 4 T T UFA mula! Que familial " 
 
 JL 1 The command was right enough, 
 for the beast barely moved, and any one who 
 ever had to do with mules may very likely 
 have cried out, with Andres, " What a 
 family ! But no one but Andres, I am sure, 
 would have said it here. By the time you 
 get up to 16,000 feet in the Andes, if you 
 are not dead altogether, you certainly have 
 no breath to spare not even so much as to 
 say, "This mouth is mine." As for exhort 
 ing a pack-mule to "get up" or trying to 
 make it ashamed of its blood relations, why, 
 you couldn t if you would. If some one 
 were to stand at the head of the pass offer 
 ing you a dollar a word for remarks, the 
 chances are a hundred to one that you would 
 find yourself without either the ambition or 
 the lungs to earn a nickel. It is a very 
 strange thing, as well as a very frightful 
 one, how these great altitudes clutch you 
 
 Pronounced, An-drayce; and Arriero (arry-ay-ro), man 
 in charge of a pack train. 
 
1 1 2 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 by the windpipe, and turn your heart s 
 strong beat to the last flutter of a wounded 
 bird, and fill your eyes with strange red 
 threads and your ears with a dull tap! tap I 
 tap 1 so that you can count your pulse simply 
 by listening. Worse still, how there seems 
 to have been turned somewhere a sly faucet 
 which has let the last drop of strength drip 
 away before you knew it. But very lucky 
 indeed are you if that is all. Many more 
 than escape with these unpleasant symp 
 toms have worse. There is a horrible 
 nausea, as much beyond seasickness as 
 that is beyond a plain stomach-ache, and 
 nearly every one gets it above a certain 
 height. Then come sudden hemorrhages 
 from nose, mouth, ears, eyes, finger-tips, 
 and so on to the last. These symptoms 
 and any of them mean, " Get down stairs 
 instanter." If you cannot get down fast 
 enough you will be carried down too late 
 to do you any good. I have seen great, 
 powerful men fall there as an ox falls when 
 the ax is laid to its head, and never rise 
 again nor again be conscious. At less ele 
 vations I have seen robust men go dead in 
 twenty-four hours with no disease on earth 
 but the altitude. Only recently an acquaint 
 ance of mine visiting a town but 12,500 feet 
 above the sea went to bed in perfect health 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 113 
 
 and " woke up dead in the morning-," as a 
 Celtic mutual friend related in all sincerity. 
 Still, the only certain thing- about it is 
 that if you go high enough you will pay the 
 penalty; but no one can tell you how high 
 that is, nor can you yourself learn finally, 
 even by experiment. You may start out 
 with a party from one of the inland towns 
 of Peru, say at an elevation of 7,000 to 8,000 
 feet and even there many are greatly 
 affected by the altitude. One of the party, 
 and perhaps the most robust looking-, may 
 become so dangerously sick at 10,000 feet 
 that he will have to be sent back at once. 
 The rest may go on safely to 12,000 feet, 
 and there another succumb, and so on. 
 And you may (though it is very unlikely) 
 toil on even up to 17,000 or 18,000 feet with 
 out serious symptoms, and then a few days 
 later be so terribly affected at 10,000 feet 
 that only the most rapid removal to lower 
 levels will save your life. Myself, I have 
 never felt the mountain sickness. But then, 
 my constitution is a most extraordinarily 
 pig-headed one, which seems to butt against 
 almost any wall with impunity. I have 
 climbed and worked hard at considerably 
 over 19,000 feet, and for a long time lived 
 from 12,000 to 15,000 feet above the sea, and 
 never felt anything worse than room for an 
 
H4 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 extra pair of lungs, there where is really 
 precious little air to breathe. But warning- 
 was all around, so that I never felt quite 
 sure my turn would not come next. 
 
 There is much in habit, of course. You 
 all remember the Irishman s horse which 
 learned to live on shaving s though un 
 fortunately it died just as it was becom 
 ing accustomed to this economical diet. 
 And lungs, too, can get used to living on 
 such shavings as the upper air that is, if 
 there are lungs enough and you give them 
 long enough. Many die in the learning, but 
 in centuries a type is fixed. So with Andres. 
 His fathers for a thousand years had 
 breathed no heavier air than that of the 
 great Bolivian plateau. He had been born 
 on one of the "little hills" beside Lake 
 Titi-caca, and brought up there. Leadville 
 is the highest considerable town in North 
 America, and it is too elevated for a great 
 many people ; but Andres had never in his 
 life got so low as 11,000 feet. If he were 
 suddenly set down in New York his lungs 
 would be almost as much embarrassed 
 as would yours if you were so suddenly 
 snatched up to his skyward home. He 
 might almost call for an ax to break that 
 thick air up into breathing chunks ! And 
 you, sitting with bloodshot eyes and open 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 1 1 5 
 
 mouth, would be wondering- what skim-milk 
 atmosphere was this, that in ten min 
 utes gasping- you could not g-et as fair a fill 
 to your lung-s as you now get with every 
 breath you draw. 
 
 The mule was a well-seasoned mule, born 
 in Puno and never any nearer sea level than 
 that 12,500-foot town. True, it was now 
 some 4,000 feet nearer the sky, and barely 
 crawling- up the pass. At every half-dozen 
 or dozen paces it paused to groan despair 
 ingly, panting full five minutes before it 
 could go another step. But that was a good 
 mule. If you wished to see what an ordin 
 ary mule did in the pass, you had only to 
 look at either side of the trail almost any 
 where. There were hundreds of bleached 
 skeletons lying just where they had fallen, 
 but white as thesnowsupon the peaksabove. 
 Here and there were even the bones of the 
 llama* the highest-dwelling quadruped on 
 earth. As for horses, their usefulness 
 ceases long before reaching such altitudes 
 as that of the Quimca-chata. I have seen 
 people who had an air of feeling that the 
 mule ought always to be begging pardon 
 for being alive, and that nature was in 
 pretty small business when she made him. 
 
 * Ll-yoTi-ma. Double 1 in Spanish always has the sound 
 that it has in our word " million." 
 
u6 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 But that, of course, is a notion of very unin 
 formed folk. In fact, as all know who have 
 stirred out a little, the mule is the most 
 broadly useful animal in the service of man. 
 The horse can run faster, the elephant 
 carry heavier loads, the llama climb higher 
 above the clouds; but no other beast can 
 carry so much so far, so fast, so low and so 
 high as this unpretentious and maligned 
 big-ears; and wherever civilized man has 
 had to conquer the wilderness this has been 
 his best friend. 
 
 Something- of this was in the thought of 
 the traveler sprawled beside the apacketa 
 at the head of the pass watching now the 
 gasping saddle-mule near him, and now 
 the rest of his small caravan as it crept 
 upward. He was breathing with open 
 mouth, but otherwise showed no traces of 
 the hour s climb since he left Andres and 
 the pack-beast, and tramped on, driving 
 his own mule ahead rather than ride the 
 distressed beast. 
 
 "Yes," he was saying (but to himself; 
 which called for no expenditure of breath), 
 "old Tom Moore, Crook s chief packer, was 
 right when he used to say, God made mules 
 a-purpose ! How they have been the right 
 hand of the pioneer in both Americas. Bien, 
 Andres so you got him up at last." 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 117 
 
 Andres took off his frowsy hat, leaving- 
 upon his head the long-peaked knit cap of 
 vicuna* wool, removed from his mouth the 
 quid of coca leaves he had been chewing-, 
 and flung- the wad ag-ainst the rough, up 
 right stone, which was already pimpled all 
 over with similar offerings. No mount 
 ain Indian of Bolivia would any more think 
 of passing such a monument at the crest of 
 a pass without making this sacrifice than 
 you would think of going into church with 
 your hat on. 
 
 "fSV, viracocha" he answered, with a slow, 
 good-natured smile; and went on in his 
 stumbling mixture of Spanish and Aymara. 
 "You ought to bite the coca, ps, viracocha, 
 that the sorojchi catch you not. For so do 
 we of the mountains, and by it we get our 
 strength. Take" and he drew from his 
 left-hand pouch a pinch of the dried leaves 
 and a bit of lime. 
 
 The American shook his head, with a 
 smile, as much as to say: "Thanks, but I 
 need it not." Then he rose, with a signifi 
 cant glance at the clouds, and made a ges 
 ture of haste, pointing to the trail which 
 from their feet dipped far downward to the 
 east. 
 
 * Vee-coon-ya. The Spanish letter n has always the 
 sound of ny in "lanyard." 
 
n8 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 Andres cinched up the sagging- chipas on 
 the pack-mule, setting- his bare foot against 
 its ribs and hauling at the hair rope with 
 main strength. The traveler likewise 
 tightened his saddle-girth and swung up. 
 Half an hour more, and they were some 
 miles down the slope, descending at a gait 
 which was decidedly smart compared with 
 the snail s pace of the last few hours. 
 Through gaps in the foothills ahead came 
 now and then wondrous outlooks across the 
 upper Bolivian plateau. Off to the left was 
 the glorious blue of Titi-caca, highest great 
 lake in the world ; behind it, and stretching 
 far to the right, the still more glorious 
 white of the great Andes of Bolivia. 
 
 "There, mps, is Mururata, the Beheaded," 
 said the arriero, pointing to a flat-topped 
 peak far lower than the rest, but still tall 
 enough to wear eternal snow. u The gods 
 cut off its head long ago, to punish pride, 
 and set it over yonder, where you will soon 
 see it smoke for now it is a fire mount 
 ain." Andres trotted along, pointing, 
 chattering, smiling, as if breath were quite 
 the cheapest thing on earth. 
 
 Just then the traveler found a little, too 
 but not for the lost head of Mururata. He 
 was staring across a saddle in the hills with 
 very much such a face of incredulity and 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 119 
 
 bewilderment as one might wear at sight 
 of a ghost. 
 
 "Seest thou?" he demanded of the arri- 
 ero. "Confuse me, but I thought there 
 was no such thing as a wheel in the coun 
 try, except the Chililaya stage." 
 
 "Oh, si, viracocha in La Paz are five 
 or six carriages! And yonder will be the 
 Jauregui going to their chacra"* 
 
 A top buggy of most ancient pattern was 
 creeping up around the turn at the heels of 
 four tired mules. In a few moments the 
 travelers were not far apart ; and now An 
 dres s employer broke out afresh, but in a 
 lower tone : 
 
 " Oyez I But where is the feast to which 
 these maromeros go?" 
 
 They did look clown-like enough, to be 
 sure. The driver was clearly an Aymara 
 Indian, and showed nothing more peculiar 
 than the quaint garb of his people. But at 
 his left sat two tall and surprising figures 
 in long linen dusters and white peaked 
 caps. The latter were shaped something 
 like fools caps; but instead of ending at 
 the ears came down upon the shoulders, 
 over the whole head. Eye and mouth holes 
 and a woven nose gave them a finish as 
 uncanny as it was strange. 
 
 * Chacra a farm. 
 
I2O Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 "A Dios, caballeroT 1 cried a muffled voice 
 in clearly well-bred Spanish ; and the Indian 
 driver pulled the willing- mules to a halt. 
 One of the masks leaned from the carriage, 
 and from behind the white yarn a pair of 
 keen, black eyes stared first at the pack- 
 mule and then at the American. 
 
 "Pardon the molesting-, but you carry a 
 machine of the photograph, is it not?" 
 
 The tripod stretching- along- the pack- 
 beast from ears to tail, and the square, 
 leather boxes in the chipas were clear 
 enoug-h, and the traveler replied politely : 
 
 " As you see, sir." 
 
 "Good! And how much is worth a pic 
 ture? Come, we will occupy you." 
 
 "Infinite thanks, cavaliers, but I do not 
 sell. And pardon, for I am in haste." 
 
 " How not?" There was an incredulous 
 flash in the ambushed eyes, and the voice 
 had lost the edg-e of its courtesy. "We 
 have money in hand, and we wish to take 
 out our pictures." 
 
 "I lament it, sirs; but you ask the im 
 possible. The g-overnment of Bolivia has 
 entered my materials free of duty, seeing- 
 that I come on a scientific mission; and in 
 return, that your native artists shall not 
 have whereof to complain, I am pledg-ed to 
 sell no pictures. It often pains me, know- 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 121 
 
 ing how one feels for a picture here where 
 artists are few. But in any event, I make 
 vistas only for the one purpose, and need all 
 the plates we brought." 
 
 The maskers evidently did not credit any 
 such absurd story. The gringo he was 
 a gringo, of course, in spite of his comfort 
 able Spanish pues> he knew them for rich 
 and was holding off for a big offer. 
 
 " Well, we will give fifty bolivianos.* Get 
 in and we will carry you to the chacra. 
 There is your home. You shall stay so 
 much as you will; and there is much hunt 
 ing and such views of Illimani as you have 
 not seen. Also, there are strange monu 
 ments of the ancients. Eh? Then one 
 hundred bolivianos!" 
 
 "I give you the most expressive thanks, 
 gentlemen, and would willingly see your 
 chacra. But I am bound for Tiahuanaco. 
 And, in any event, you must know that I 
 talk not lumber, but truth. I cannot make 
 your pictures." 
 
 "Listen, then," muttered the Bolivian 
 angrily, turning to his fellow-mask, "how 
 hard-headed are these gringos! Come," 
 addressing the traveler again, "you are 
 too dear. But we will say two hundred 
 
 * The Bolivian dollar. 
 
122 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 bolivianos" and he held up a huge roll of 
 small red bank bills. 
 
 By now there was a considerable wrinkle 
 in the traveler s brow. " God give you 
 good evening, cavaliers," he said, curtly. 
 " I am of one yes and one no. If you want 
 retratos I know no place nearer than La Paz 
 where you can get them. Adios." 
 
 He set spurs to his mule and rode off 
 down hill. The two maskers looked blankly 
 at one another a moment, and then their 
 mules began to plod up the slope amid a 
 volley of Spanish expletives. Andres had 
 prodded the pack-beast to a lurching trot, 
 and ran easily at its heels. 
 
 u Mps, viracocha" he said, in a loud 
 whisper, taking off his hat again as he drew 
 alongside the traveler. " But those are the 
 Jauregui, and it would be better to please 
 them. They are most powerful, and very 
 hard-headed, too." 
 
 u Then let them butt against a harder 
 head. I can t kola! Vicunas, no? " 
 
 The frown had smoothed out, and he was 
 snatching the rifle from its holster strapped 
 along the saddle. Away over on an opposite 
 slope a little brown cloud was drifting. 
 
 " Si! But they go! " cried Andres. 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 123 
 
 The cloud was, indeed, breaking- up in a 
 score of wee brown dots that scudded like 
 so many shadows. 
 
 " Too far ! And I wanted some pelts for 
 a little girl I know. To try, anyhow! " The 
 traveler jerked the rifle to his shoulder and 
 fired. " Nothing," he sighed. " Of course 
 not it was a shot thrown away." But 
 Andres cried : " You touched ! See yonder, 
 how he makes lame ! " 
 
 "Your eyes for it mine don t reach so 
 far. But one does look to have fallen be 
 hind. Too bad ! Now it is to run him down 
 a man even in a hurry can t leave the poor 
 wounded brute to be gouged piecemeal by 
 the condors. Go on thy best with the pack- 
 beast, Andres, and I ll catch thee at the 
 tambo, or sooner." 
 
 The arriero ambled on, with now and then 
 a reminding- cudg-el to his charge. A funny 
 man, this no? But then, no doubt all 
 gringos were a little wrong- in the head. 
 To refuse two hundred bolivianos for a pic 
 ture, and then g-o ramping 1 off to kill a 
 wounded vicuna I Smart are the Yanquis, 
 yes but of reason, not much. As if the 
 condors were to blame if they could catch 
 a thing injured! And it can be that they 
 will have mule as well as vicuna for supper. 
 The viracocha evidently forgets that he is 
 
124 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 on the ground of the mountain sickness. 
 Pity if it should catch him since he is 
 very good, unbrained though he be. 
 
 But at a turn in the trail Andres found 
 other matters to be thought of than the 
 general follies and occasional virtues of the 
 Yanquis. Other ears than his had heard 
 the rifle, and other eyes noted the traveler s 
 tangent ; and now the young Indian gave a 
 start very like one of fear at the rattle of 
 wheels behind him and an imperious call of 
 "AUot" 
 
 n. 
 
 Andres glanced over his shoulder and 
 faced about in his tracks. It was only for 
 an instant that he thought of running. He 
 might make a break down the rough hill 
 side, where the carriage could not follow, 
 yes. But the pack-mule, sagging under 
 those boxes, of which the viracocha was so 
 tender! The boy s thick lips drew tight 
 across his large, white teeth. He would 
 stay. The instant he ceased to beset its 
 heels the fagged beast stopped too, and 
 there they stood like two shabby statues, 
 while the carriage drew alongside. 
 
 "So the gringo hunts, eh?" spoke one 
 of the maskers, briskly, stepping down 
 from the buggy. "But he is very high 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 125 
 
 priced, it seems as much as unamiable. 
 Come, tell us how much he does get for 
 in truth I thought we offered enough." 
 
 "Who knows, your excellency?" stam 
 mered Andres. " It is a month that I am 
 with him as arriero, and until now he pic 
 tures only the monuments. And even of 
 those I have not yet seen the retratos, for 
 he says he is to finish them when we shall 
 reach La Paz. Of people he always refuses 
 as your excellency saw. Except that 
 once, in Copacabana, he pictured an an 
 cient beggar at the gate, taking no money." 
 
 " Ay, but these gringos are many sorts of 
 fools and this one all sorts. Come, then, 
 these vistas he has made, they will be in the 
 chifas. To see them!" 
 
 The speaker s air and tone were plainly 
 those of one who has no dream of not being 
 obeyed, and he fairly stiffened with aston 
 ishment when the arriero, rather pale and 
 very much embarrassed, stammered: 
 
 " P-pero, excellency, I I cannot!" 
 
 "Miral Another who cannot! It is 
 contagious, then, this no puedo I Oyez ! 
 and now the command was sharp and stern, 
 " Open me those boxes ! " 
 
 Andres backed off a step. His brown 
 cheeks were unmistakably gray, and his 
 voice faltered as he replied, humbly, but 
 
126 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 stolidly: "Do not shame me, Excellency. 
 This viracocha hires me, treating- me 
 kindly. For arriero, yes but even more, 
 he has me to guard the machine when he is 
 not beside it. For so many wish to peep 
 in, and he has thing s in little flat boxes 
 which he opens only at night in a room 
 without candles, and not even smoking his 
 cigarro. He says that to let in a so-little 
 of light would destroy all. For that I am 
 promised, that no one shall open them nor 
 touch them. Do not ask me, then, excel 
 lency." 
 
 " Ask thee, cannibal ! A Jatiregui asking 
 thee? Vaya! lorderihee. And between 
 winks, too, lest thou taste the quirt! " He 
 snatched from his driver the short, leaden- 
 butted bull whip. 
 
 Andres backed away still farther, till he 
 ran up against the pack of his dejected 
 mule, which stood as if petrified there. 
 
 " No puedo, taita! " he repeated, with an 
 appealing glance. Then, as the man 
 reached forth to pluck the knot of the cinch 
 rope, Andres extended his arm as a bar 
 rier, crying, " Haniwal Your excellency 
 must not!" 
 
 At this actual obstruction the personage 
 in the white hood clearly lost an already 
 ruffled temper. He drew the quirt whis- 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 127 
 
 fling around those sturdy, bare calves, and 
 a blue welt stood up there. Another cut, 
 and another. The stolid face changed little, 
 but the legs shifted uneasily. 
 
 "Haniiua, is it?" The ambushed eyes 
 seemed fairly outside the mask now, so 
 angrily they shone. "Then we will see! 
 To beat a little more manners into that 
 thick skull." He shifted the quirt in his 
 hand, clubbing the loaded end over An 
 dres s head. The arriero flung up his 
 hands. He was a sinewy young man, very 
 probably much more powerful than his tall 
 assailant. Nor was he thinking of the odds 
 of those two more in the carriage. It was 
 tradition, not cowardice, that stayed his 
 hands how could this arriero and son of 
 arrieros think to strike a don? For he was 
 born and bred in a country where there is 
 still such a thing as respect sometimes 
 misapplied, as now ; but broadly so honor 
 able that I wish some reciprocity treaty 
 might enable us to import some of it for 
 northern use. 
 
 The leaden butt fell across his guard, 
 and one hand dropped to his side. The 
 other he drew before his eyes. 
 
 * * Come ! Will thou open, or shall I crack 
 that foolish squash-head?" 
 
128 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 Andres did not move. " Hani-wal" he 
 muttered in the same slow, stupid way, 
 shutting- his eyes as the club rose again. 
 But just then a voice called from the 
 carriage : 
 
 "To what use, brother? They are no 
 more than clods. Beat one to death, and 
 you shall not change him. Let Pepe tie 
 him and then we can verify the boxes." 
 
 The one with the quirt hesitated a mo 
 ment. His blood was hot, and the brute in 
 him ached to beat away at this maddening 
 stupid. His hand dropped reluctantly, and 
 he growled : 
 
 "As thou wilt. Rope him then, Pepe." 
 
 But if the arriero had stood dumb under 
 the lash of his superior, it was another page 
 in the almanac when a brown fellow of his 
 own blood and station caug-ht him by the 
 arms and started to pass a reata around 
 him. Andres doubled forward at the waist, 
 clumsily but resistlessly. His tousled head 
 struck Pepe on the mouth, and that too- 
 ready henchman rolled heavily in the road. 
 Andres sprang- upon him and flung- fistfuls 
 of dust in his face, shaking him as a terrier 
 does a rat. 
 
 "Pig! Who lent thee a candle in this 
 funeral? Thy master I could not fight. 
 But thou, barbarian " 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 129 
 
 " Socorro! " bawled Pepe, quite helpless 
 in the clutch of his exasperated rider. 
 "Take him off!" 
 
 "I 11 take him off! " growled the master, 
 and he ran forward, swinging the club about 
 his head. Woe is me for thy skull, Andre- 
 sito, if that ounce of lead befall it squarely 
 from behind! 
 
 III. 
 
 When the "gringo" and his laboring 
 mule pitched down the side of a very 
 considerable barranca, their quarry was 
 plainly visible four or five hundred yards 
 up the opposite hill. The rest of the flock 
 had long ago disappeared, and by now was 
 miles away for they run almost like ante- 
 lope,these airy beauties of the Andes, the 
 tiniest camels in the world, and the only 
 graceful ones. But when mule and rider 
 struggled up the farther bank, the wounded 
 vicuna was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 "Plague! But I must not kill tkee, in 
 trying to be merciful to him," muttered the 
 rider, and he sprang to the ground. It was 
 high time. The mule stood gasping in his 
 tracks, head down, chin hanging and knees 
 quaking violently. The traveler looked up 
 and down him, remorsefully but critically. 
 
 "With a rest, thou rt all right. But I 
 ought to beg thy pardon for giving thee a 
 
130 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 fool for a rider 1 Now, my legs for it and 
 rest thou here." 
 
 The involuntary object of all this trouble 
 was certainly inconsiderate. Having been 
 so foolish as to go and get wounded, he 
 should have waited at least for the Sam 
 aritan to come up and give him the blow of 
 mercy. But, instead, he hobbled bleating 
 on in pursuit of his fellows, even long after 
 they had vanished. It was astonishing how^ 
 this delicate, fawn-like creature could run 
 so far with a broken leg, and his well-mean^ 
 ing pursuer began to find it more than as 
 tonishing. Plague take the little imbecile 
 he was bound to make it as hard as pos 
 sible to do him a good turn ! It is odd how 
 our minds can contradict themselves how 
 we sometimes start out on a thoroughly 
 praiseworthy errand, and fall into very un- 
 amiable moods by the way. 
 
 The pursuer was by now decidedly 
 angry which is a very unwise luxury to 
 be indulged in, at least among the Andes. 
 His temper was by no means calculated to 
 soothe the stampeding gallop of his heart ; 
 and to see him gasping up yonder cumbre, 
 with a purpling face and protruding tongue, 
 and a scowl on his brow, probably no stran 
 ger would have dreamed that he was really 
 on a generous errand. 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 131 
 
 "Belike the condors will have to have 
 thee!" he groaned inwardly since not for 
 his life, now, could he have articulated the 
 words: "I m done up! This one more 
 ridge and it must end." 
 
 But as he reached the top of that last 
 ridg-e, there was a tremendous swoosh of 
 wing s past him, and then, from the hollow 
 beyond, a scream almost human in its 
 agony. At that he plucked new vigor, and 
 went racing- down the slope in a surprising- 
 spurt. The truth was that, once started, 
 he had no long-er the strength to stop on 
 that stiff pitch, and must keep on till he 
 should fall or fetch up against some obsta 
 cle. His sig-ht was blurred, his head roar 
 ing-, his legs numb, and where his heart 
 should be, a strange, suffocating emptiness 
 seemed to have come and still he spun on. 
 Then, in a reeling way, he swung the six- 
 shooter thrice, firing as fast as finger could 
 pull the trigger ; in the same second, sprawl 
 ing headlong in a confusion of bleats and 
 silken fur and beating wings. A tremen 
 dous blow from one of the latter cut his 
 scalp clear across the occiput. The revol 
 ver blazed again, and, after a wild thrash 
 ing, all was still. 
 
 It was some minutes before the hunter 
 sat up, gazing about him in a dazed way. 
 
132 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 The rest and the chilly air and the loss of 
 blood were beginning to counteract the 
 effects of his imprudent chase. 
 
 "Well! The next time I shoot before I 
 think, I won t shoot!" he informed himself 
 without expense of breath, and with the 
 ghost of a smile. " Wonder I hadn t killed 
 myself with such a race, up here. But if 
 you start, finish ! " and he looked compla 
 cently down at the little dead vicuna against 
 which he leaned; and not a rod away the 
 huge vulture sprawled upon its back, its 
 wings outstretched a full dozen feet, its feet 
 clenched in the empty air. 
 
 " He got only one swipe at thee, it seems. 
 It s all right, so that I came in time to give 
 thee a more merciful death. So we won t 
 grudge the breath it cost me. But the least 
 thanks thou canst give me is that precious 
 pelt." Drawing his knife, the hunter soon 
 removed that very softest and most ex 
 quisite of all furs. Then with an uneasy 
 glance at the clouds he turned away, walk 
 ing as briskly as his protesting lungs would 
 allow. 
 
 Good ! There was the mule all right. It 
 had not budged a foot; and now, though still 
 in an attitude of utter dejection, was clearly 
 out of danger. Directly, master and mule 
 were jogging off toward the trail at a most 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 133 
 
 doleful gait which doubtless would have 
 been mended, if they could have seen 
 through the rounded hill just ahead. But 
 the hill was opaque, as hills and circum 
 stances ahead are so prone to be; and they 
 pottered along lazily, until, at a turn over 
 the ridge, the spurs went drumming such 
 an unexpected tattoo upon his echoing ribs 
 that the mule quite forgot himself, and went 
 pitching down the hill at a pace he had not 
 taken in a month. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Away down yonder, a superannuated 
 buggy and its team stood in the trail. A 
 few rods ahead of it, and just at the heels 
 of a wilted pack-mule, two men were scuf 
 fling in the dust; and over them a hooded 
 figure was bringing down a heavy club. 
 At that instant the pack beast wakened 
 enough to turn his head interrogatively, 
 cocking one ear forward and the other back. 
 Even as he did so, his nigh hind leg could 
 be seen to gather itself and suddenly lunge 
 out behind. A long, linen-shrouded form, 
 white capped at one end, thereupon doubled 
 in half, and rose in the air and went whirl 
 ing like a boomerang. It fell a full rod 
 away and did not rise. Then a similar 
 figure sprang from the buggy and rushed 
 
134 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 at the wrestlers; but midway went down all 
 at once in a loose heap, as if struck by a 
 bullet. No wonder the stranger up yonder 
 drummed with his heels, and jockeyed, and 
 whooped ; and, finding- his charger still too 
 slow, leaped from its back and came bound 
 ing- down the hillside like a loosened rock. 
 
 Andres was sitting placidly astride his 
 prostrate foe, breathing- rather hard, but 
 looking- stupidly g-ood-natured as ever. One 
 of his fingers was broken, and blood from a 
 gash on his forehead trickled down his 
 nose. 
 
 " Mps, viracocha" he answered to the 
 breathless traveler s glance of inquiry, 
 "the cabalhros were set to see the inside of 
 your boxes, and because I refused they 
 went to beat me. But when this cannibal 
 here came upon me, then it was to fight. 
 The blows of a gentleman, yes but not of 
 a chuncho.* So I measured him, thus. And 
 when the gentleman went to crack me the 
 squash with his quirt, then did Big-Ears 
 here, forgetting respect to the powerful, 
 set heel to his stomach and lift him until 
 over yonder." 
 
 "And this? I saw him fall as he ran at 
 you," the viracocha mustered breath to say. 
 
 *C7ioon-cho- literally, a "cannibal" the word used 
 specifically of the man-eating tribes of the upper Amazon, 
 and in general as a term of reproach. 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 135 
 
 " He ? Mps, but it will be the sorojchi 
 see you not how the blood falls from his 
 mouth ? And you see, viracocha, how 
 strong- is the coca ! Because I sacrificed at 
 the apacheta, as one should, to the spirits of 
 the hig-h places, it has all come as the mouth 
 would ask. Without that, then, the gentle 
 men would have left me here, of no more 
 use to your grace, and the magic boxes 
 would be emptied in the light. " 
 
 When night came down on the Quimca- 
 chata, a g-usty snowstorm, with howling" 
 intervals of hail, beset the pass. It roared 
 at the hills, it swooped down the canons as 
 if in search of some living- thing- it might 
 turn to ice before morning-. But inside the 
 low, dirty tambo, they only laughed at its 
 rag-e. The bald stone hut in a little nook 
 under the shoulder of a hill had neither 
 window nor chimney; and a heavy poncho 
 of llama hair was the temporary door. It 
 was a fair type of the tambos of the Andes 
 those tenantless, cheerless way side shel 
 ters that save the traveler in those bleak 
 lands from perishing-. On the sooty hearth 
 a faint blaze of taqui wavered, and the smoke 
 wandered out as best it could or made itself 
 at home in the bare room. Upon the rough 
 stone bench along- the walls sat five men, 
 
136 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 and in the farther corner six mules nosed 
 wistfully in a rubbish heap for casual 
 straws. Of the men two were Indians, and 
 both wore bandaged heads. The third 
 guest of this inn without a landlord ap 
 peared to be an American, and he also had 
 a handkerchief bound about his skull. The 
 two others were handsome, swarthy men in 
 costly vicuna ponchos. They sat on linen 
 dusters, from the pockets of which peeped 
 the tasseled ends of two white caps. 
 
 One member of the party cast now and 
 then a sly glance at these. So, instead of 
 clowns going- to some feast, these were two 
 wealthy Bolivians. And those astonishing 
 head masks which had so mystified him 
 were merely to save their faces from that 
 trying mountain air so Andres had in 
 formed him, with an evident effort not to 
 pity his ignorance. And looking at those 
 coffee complexions he had serious work to 
 keep from smiling at the thought of trying 
 to keep them from sunburn. 
 
 " PueS) it is as well the tambo was near, 
 for none of us were in shape to go much 
 farther to-night, even forgetting the storm. 
 Eat But how it howls, as if disappointed ! " 
 
 It was the American who broke the si 
 lence, though he spoke, of course, in Spanish 
 
Andres, the Arriero. 137 
 
 the only common possession of the five 
 tongues. 
 
 You have reason, caballero" answered 
 the taller of the two dons, courteously. 
 "And even more am I glad that we make 
 ourselves pardoned. Of a truth, we were 
 most ignorant that to open your cases would 
 spoil all; nor could we have thought to take 
 the liberty, but that we believed you a a 
 seller baiting- us for higher pay. But we 
 were well answered. Your so obstinate 
 arriero made me forget myself, and I give 
 you a caballero^s apology. But that mule 
 ay de mil I thought Illampu itself had 
 tumbled upon me ! " 
 
 " Verily, senorl I saw it from the hill, 
 and it was so prettily done as I never could 
 have believed. Why, senor, he shut you at 
 the waist like a knife with a strong spring ! " 
 
 The cavalier smiled a trifle weakly at the 
 description, but he said frankly : 
 
 "He did but justice. I have shame to 
 think how I lost a gentleman s temper. 
 And so little more and I could have broken 
 your man s head. But since you have the 
 fineness to hold no malice, it is well." 
 
 "Oh, I know curiosity and temper both. 
 Only that it is Andres s head and not mine. 
 But his need not be too sore for you have 
 caused me to double his wages from to-day. 
 
138 Andres, the Arriero. 
 
 An arriero that will stand a broken head to 
 guard the amo s load well, I haven t found 
 him very abundant in Bolivia, nor anywhere 
 else." 
 
 " You have reason always. And er 
 understood that pues, you know that Don 
 Juan de Jauregui cannot say to an arriero, 
 * pardon M But in purity of truth, he is 
 faithful, and I would be glad to give him a 
 well paid position on the chacra" 
 
 " Eh, Andres? The cavalier offers justly. 
 What say estthou?" 
 
 Andres s face beamed simply, and he 
 twisted his skull cap as he rose with a 
 clumsy bow. 
 
 "I shall be glad," he stammered. "But 
 only if until when that the viracocha 
 shall have no more need of an arriero. For 
 while the magic boxes have to ride on the 
 ribs of a mule, it is safer that I be driver 
 since the viracocha has shown me, and I 
 know how they must be treated. * Gently ! 
 Gently I And for the life of you, let no ligh t 
 come into them! " 
 
Our Yellow Slave 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 r "T*HE only metal in the world that is 
 yellow is the most precious of them 
 all gold. Brass is not a metal, but an 
 allo}r, a compound. And the color which 
 gold shares with the sun has a great deal 
 to do with its value. I do not suppose it 
 would be possible that we should ever have 
 come to love and admire any metal so much 
 as to choose it for our highest currency and 
 our ornaments, no matter how rare or duc 
 tile it might be, if it were of a dark, dull, 
 gloomy color. The human eye never gets 
 too old to be pleased with very much the 
 same things which pleased it in childhood ; 
 and no eye is insensible to that precious 
 yellow. 
 
 I like sometimes to think back to the first 
 man of all men that ever held that rock of 
 the sun in his savage hand, and to imagine 
 how he found it, and how it made his sharp 
 eyes twinkle, and how he wondered at its 
 weight, and pounded it with one smooth 
 rock upon another and found he could flat- 
 
 141 
 
142 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 ten it. All these things come by accident, 
 and gold was an accident that befell when 
 the world was very young. No doubt there 
 had been a great rain, that washed the 
 heavy lump from its nest in some gravelly 
 stream bank, and the prehistoric man, in 
 his tunic of skins, chanced that way and 
 found it. Mayhap it was the very rain of 
 the Flood itself, and the poor barbarian 
 who picked up the yellow nugget sank with 
 it still in his swarthy fist. 
 
 We do not even know the name of the 
 man who first discovered gold, nor where 
 he lived, nor when. But it was very, very 
 long ago. Before the time of Joseph and 
 the coat of many colors, gold had already 
 become not only a discovered fact, but a 
 part of the world. The early Egyptians 
 got their gold from Nubia, so very likely 
 the discovery was first made in Africa. At 
 all events, it dates back to the very child 
 hood of the race ; and before Cadmus had 
 found those more important nuggets of the 
 alphabet, mankind had achieved the pretti 
 est plaything it ever found. 
 
 In the very first chapter of the first and 
 noblest of poems, Homer tells of the priest 
 who came with a golden ransom to the camp 
 of the Greeks before Troy, to buy his 
 daughter free; and the sunny metal figures 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 143 
 
 everywhere in the oldest mythology we 
 know. You have all read and I hope in 
 Hawthorne s "Tanglewood Tales," where 
 the story is more beautifully told than it 
 was ever elsewhere of Jason and the Ar 
 gonauts, and of how they sailed to find the 
 Golden Fleece. That was a fabulous ram- 
 skin, whose locks were of pure gold. No 
 wonder the deadly dragon in the dark 
 groves of the Colchian king guarded it so 
 jealously. Of course the myth is only a 
 poetic form as stories generally assume 
 in the folk-lore of an undeveloped race of 
 saying that Jason and his bold fellow-sailors 
 of the Argo sailed to the gold fields of 
 Asia, and found them. The mines whose 
 fabled richness tempted them to that ad 
 venturous voyage in their overgrown row- 
 boat of fifty oars, were in the Caucasus 
 mountains, and produced a great deal of 
 the gold which was used by the ancients. 
 They were doubtless among the first gold 
 mines in the world, and their product gilded 
 the splendor of many of the first great 
 monarchs of history. As late as 1875 an 
 attempt was made by Europeans to work 
 these mines, but nothing came of it. 
 
 "Rich as Croesus" has been for more than 
 two thousand years a proverb which is not 
 yet supplanted ; and that last king of Lydia 
 
144 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 and richest king- of all time, according- to 
 the ancient myths got his wealth from 
 placer mines in the river Pactolus, whose 
 name has been as synonymous with g-old 
 as Croesus s own. One of the strang-est 
 and wisest of the folk-stories of ancient 
 Greece tells how that little river in Asia 
 Minor first g-ained its g-olden sands. Some 
 seven hundred years before Christ, there 
 was a king- of Phrygia who had more gold 
 than Croesus ever dreamed of so much 
 g-old that it made him the poorest man in the 
 world! It was King Midas, son of Gordius, 
 who earned this strange distinction. He 
 had done a favor to Dionysus, and the god 
 said gratefully : " Wish one wish, whatever 
 thou wilt, and I will grant it." Now Midas 
 had already caught the most dangerous of 
 all " yellow fevers " the fever for gold 
 and he replied: "Then let it be that all 
 things which I shall touch shall be turned 
 Into gold." 
 
 Dionysus promptly granted this foolish 
 prayer;and Midas was very happy for a little 
 time. He picked up stones from the ground, 
 and instantly they changed to great lumps 
 of gold. His staff was gold, and his very 
 clothing became yellow and so heavy that 
 he could barely stagger under its weight. 
 This was very fine indeed I He touched the 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 145 
 
 corner of his palace and lol the whole 
 building- became a house of pure gold. 
 Splendid! He entered, and touched what 
 took his fancy ; and furniture, and clothing-, 
 and all, underwent the same magic change. 
 Better and better ! " I m the luckiest king- 
 alive," chuckled Midas, still looking- about 
 for something- new to transmute. 
 
 But even king s who have the golden 
 touch must sometimes eat, and presently 
 Midas grew hungry with so much wealth- 
 making. He clapped his hands, and the 
 servants spread the royal table. A touch 
 of the royal finger, and table and cloth and 
 dishes were yellow gold. This was some 
 thing like ! The exhilarated king sat down 
 and broke a piece of bread but as he 
 lifted it, it was strangely heavy, and he saw 
 that it, too, was of the precious metal! A 
 doubt ran through his foolish head whether 
 even the golden touch might not have its 
 drawbacks; but he was very hungry, and 
 did not wait to weigh the question. If his 
 fingers turned the bread to gold, he would 
 take something from a spoon and he lifted 
 a ladle of broth to his mouth. But the in 
 stant it touched his lips, the broth turned 
 to a great yellow button, which dropped 
 ringing back upon the golden board. 
 
146 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 The disquieted king- rose and walked out 
 of the palace. At the door he met his fair- 
 faced little daughter, who held up a bright 
 flower to him. Midas laid his hand gently 
 upon her head, for he loved the child, foolish 
 as he was. And lo! his daughter stood mo 
 tionless before him a pitiful little statue 
 of shining gold 1 
 
 How much longer this accursed power 
 tormented the miserable monarch the myth 
 does not tell us ; but he was cured at last by 
 bathing in the river Pactolus, and the wash 
 ing away of his magic power filled the sands 
 of the stream with golden grains. 
 
 The Midases are not dead yet for the 
 one of ancient fable there are thousands to 
 day, at whose very touch all turns to gold. 
 Their food does not become metal between 
 their lips but often it might as well, for 
 all the joy they have of it. And the little 
 Phrygian princess was not the only child to 
 be changed and hardened forever by the 
 " Golden Touch." 
 
 Gold figures largely through all the quaint 
 history-fables of the ancients; and history 
 itself is full of tales hardly less remarkable. 
 The early history of America was made by 
 gold or rather, by golden hopes which 
 achieved wonders for civilization, but very 
 little for the pockets of the most wonderful 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 147 
 
 explorers the world has ever seen. Had it 
 not been for the presence of gold here 
 and the supposed presence of even more 
 than has yet been dug- the western hemis 
 phere would be very much of a wilderness 
 still. It was the chase of the golden myths 
 which led to the astounding achievements 
 that opened the New World ; and since then, 
 almost to this day, civilization has followed 
 with deliberate march only in the hasty 
 footprints of the gold seekers. No tale was 
 too wild to find credence with the early 
 adventurers. 
 
 The fabled ransom of Montezuma is alls. 
 fable; but it is a fact that Atahualpa, the 
 head Inca of Peru, did pay to that marvel 
 ous soldier Pizarro a ransom of golden ves 
 sels sufficient to fill a room twenty-two by 
 seventeen feet to a height of nearly six 
 feet above the floor 1 While gold was not 
 much in use in Mexico, there was a great 
 deal of it employed in Peru for sacred 
 utensils and idols and for personal orna 
 ments; and to this day the "mummy 
 miners " are taking it out there. The 
 early Spanish discoveries of gold in North 
 America were unimportant, despite the 
 gilded myths which have surrounded them. 
 In Columbus s time the gold fields of the 
 known world were so "worked out" that 
 
148 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 their product was barely enough to meet 
 the "wear and tear " of the precious metal 
 in use ; so there was crying- need of new 
 finds. But they came slowly. 
 
 By 1580 there were vague rumors of gold 
 in what is now California. Loyola Casallo, 
 a visiting priest, saw placer gold there, and 
 tells of it in his book written in 1690. In 
 the last century Antonio Alcedo speaks of 
 lumps of California gold, weighing from five 
 to eight pounds. But though its presence 
 was known, and though the rocky ribs of 
 the Golden State hid far more millions 
 than were dreamed of and perhaps than 
 are dreamed of yet there was little min 
 ing, and that little with scant success. 
 
 The first gold discovery in the American 
 colonies was in Cabarrus county, North 
 Carolina, in 1799 ; and up to 1827 that state 
 was the only gold-producer in the Union. 
 In 1824 Cabarrus county sent the first 
 American gold to the mint in Philadelphia. 
 The Appalachian gold field, which embraces 
 part of Virginia, and stretches across North 
 Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia, touch 
 ing also parts of Tennessee and Alabama, 
 was once looked to for great things ; but it 
 long ago dropped from all importance. 
 
 In 1828 the New Placers were discovered 
 in New Mexico, some fifty miles south of 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 149 
 
 Santa Fe, and for a great many years pro 
 duced richly. Even to this day they are far 
 from unproductive. Gold had been found 
 in New Mexico many generations before, 
 but never in quantities to come anywhere 
 near paying-. A decade later, placer gold 
 was discovered in Santa Barbara county, 
 California, in the vast rancho of that gallant 
 old hidalgo whose home was described by 
 Mrs. Jackson as the home of "Ramona." 
 These placers have been worked steadily 
 though clumsily by Mexicans ever since; 
 and I have a waxy nugget which was washed 
 out in Piru creek in 1838. 
 
 Within half a century the world s supply 
 of gold had long been inadequate to the 
 growing demand. Russia was the chief 
 producer ; and her mines discovered about 
 1745 kept the nations from a famine" 
 which would be most disastrous. There 
 were old mines in China, but little worked; 
 and though Japan s gold output was large, 
 it was but a drop in the cosmopolitan 
 bucket. Russia at present, by the way, 
 produces an average of twenty millions of 
 gold a year. 
 
 The wonderful gold fields of Australia 
 were discovered in 1839 by Count Strzelcki; 
 but the priceless find was concealed, for a 
 curious reason. Australia was already 
 
150 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 England s out-door prison; and. it was 
 feared that if the golden news were known 
 the 45,000 desperate convicts there would 
 rise in rebellion and annihilate their keep 
 ers as they could well have done. So for 
 a dozen years the mighty secret was jeal 
 ously guarded; and thousands walked un 
 suspecting over the dumb gravel that held 
 a million fortunes. In 1848 Rev. W. B. 
 Clark again stumbled upon the dangerous 
 secret, but again the discovery was sup 
 pressed; and it was not until California 
 had set the whole world on fire with excite 
 ment which nothing could bottle up, that 
 Australia threw off her politic mask. In 
 1851 E. H. Hargreaves, who had just come 
 from the new mines of California, saw that 
 Australia was geologically a gold country ; 
 and his prospecting proved his surmises 
 correct. The news spread in spite of cau 
 tious officials; and the wild epidemic of for 
 tune seekers pitted the face of the island- 
 continent, and watered its thirsty sands 
 with blood. Even yet, Australia is produc 
 ing over $45,000,000 gold a year. 
 
 The rich gold fields of New Zealand were 
 first found in 1842, but were not extensively 
 worked until 1856, when the swarming gold 
 hunters had overrun the Australian fields, 
 and the restless sought still easier wealth. 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 151 
 
 As I have told you, gold was mined spas 
 modically in California much more than two 
 centuries ago, and steadily mined for more 
 than a decade before the "great discovery" 
 which was to change the face of an empire 
 and bring about what was in many ways 
 the most remarkable migration in the whole 
 history of the human race. But these early 
 diggings of the precious metal made little 
 stir. The swarthy miners delved away 
 quietly, exchanged their glittering u dust " 
 for rough food and other rude necessaries, 
 and made no noise. They were very much 
 out of the world. The telegraph, the rail 
 road and the printing press were far from 
 touch with them. There were a few "Amer 
 icans " in California, and even one or two 
 newspapers, but neither paid attention to 
 the occasional rumors of gold, save to 
 ridicule them. 
 
 But on the ninth day of February, 1848, 
 a little girl held in her unknowing hand the 
 key of the West the wee yellow seed w r hich 
 was to spring into one of the most won 
 drous plants in history. On the American 
 fork of the Sacramento river, in what is 
 now El Dorado county, Cal., stood a shabby 
 little mill, owned by an American named 
 Sutter. (Californians, by the way, pro 
 nounce the name "Soo -ter.") The mill race 
 
152 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 became broken, and three men were hired 
 to repair it. Two were Mormons, and the 
 third, the overseer, was named Marshall. 
 As the men worked, Marshall s little daugh 
 ter played about them dreaming as little 
 as did her elders that she was to upset a 
 continent. 
 
 A yellow pebble in an angle of the sluice 
 caught her eye, and picking the pretty trifle 
 from the wet sand, she ran to her father 
 with, "Papa! seethe pitty stone." It was 
 indeed a pretty stone, and Marshall at once 
 suspected its value. Tests proved that he 
 was right, and gold was really found. The 
 discovery made some little noise among the 
 few Americans in that lonely, far land, but 
 nothing was known of it to the world until 
 Rev. C. S. Lyman, who saw some of the 
 nuggets which further search yielded, 
 wrote a letter to the American Journal of 
 Science, in March, 1848. As soon as the 
 news was in type, it spread swiftly to the 
 four ends of the earth, and already by Au 
 gust of the same year four thousand excited 
 men were tearing up the sands of the Amer 
 ican Fork, and coaxing them to yield their 
 golden secrets. And well they succeeded, 
 for every day saw from $30,000 to $50,000 
 worth of gold washed out and transferred 
 to rude safes of bottles or buckskin sacks. 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 153 
 
 How long- and high that gold fever raged, 
 how it patted the fearful intervening- des 
 ert with the weary footprints of tens 
 of thousands of modern Jasons ; how it 
 brought around the Horn a thousand 
 heavy ships for every one that sailed be 
 fore; how it overturned and created anew 
 the money markets of the world ; how it 
 turned a vast wilderness into the g-arden of 
 the world, and pulled the Union a thousand 
 miles over to the West, and caused the build 
 ing- of such enormous railway lines as man 
 kind had never faintly dreamed of, and did 
 a thousand other wonders, you already 
 know for it has made literature as well 
 as history. Our national history is crowded 
 with great achievements, but its chief ro 
 mance was 
 
 "The days of old, 
 
 The days of gold, 
 
 The days of 49." 
 
 California produced $5,000,000 gold in 
 1848, and crazed the civilized world. The 
 output grew to $60,000,000 by 1852. To-day 
 the state yields between eleven and twelve 
 million dollars worth of gold a year, and it 
 creates no excitement whatever; for its peo 
 ple are more occupied with mining the safer 
 gold of agriculture. 
 
 Of late years South Africa has entered 
 the field as one of the great gold countries. 
 
154 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 Its annual "crop" is over forty millions. 
 There is a possibility that hereafter Alaska 
 will have to be added to the list. This 
 summer of 1897 between $3,000,000 and 
 $4,000,000 in "dust" and small nuggets came 
 out of the region generally and loosely called 
 "The Klondike." I saw in the San Fran 
 cisco mint 152,000 ounces the returning" 
 miners poured out from their buckskin 
 bag s. Over 3,000 people left California un 
 der the excitement caused by the exhibition 
 of these treasures, in a "gold-rush" which 
 recalled the old days, by its fever and its 
 follies; but the Klondike rush will probably 
 be remembered, whatever its results in 
 gold, as the most disastrous in history. 
 Instead of the mild climates of California, 
 Australia and South Africa (and thousands 
 lost health and life even there) the gold 
 seekers upon the Klondike will have to do 
 with the cruel winters and inhospitable 
 wildernesses of a land almost under the 
 Arctic Circle. 
 
 Of the various methods of liberating our 
 Yellow Slave from the hard clutches of the 
 earth it would be too long to speak in detail 
 here; but they are broadly divided into two 
 classes, according to the surroundings of 
 the gold itself. Free or "placer" gold 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 155 
 
 which was for centuries the first known to 
 mankind, and which was the sort that 
 started the great " fever " in California and 
 Australia is found in beds of sand and 
 gravel, generally the present or former bed 
 of a stream. It is extracted this precious 
 needle from an enormous and worthless 
 haystack by means of its own weight; 
 water being applied in various manners to 
 give that weight a chance to assert itself. 
 The mixed gravel is given up to the mer 
 cies of running water, which wets it 
 through, and causes its heaviest parts to 
 sink to the bottom, where they are held by 
 artificial obstacles, while the lighter parti 
 cles of sand are swept away by the natural 
 or artificial current. In this manner the 
 vast mass of soil is water-sifted until but 
 little is left; and from that little it is easy to 
 hunt out the coy yellow grains. 
 
 The placer gold was not formed in the 
 gravel banks where it is found, but came 
 there by the death of its mother rock. All 
 gold began in " veins " in the earth s rocky 
 ribs; but Time, with his patient hammers 
 of wind and rain and frost, has pounded 
 vast areas of these rocks to sand ; and the 
 gold, broken from great bands to lumps, 
 has drifted with the bones of the mountains 
 into the later heaps of gravel. 
 
156 Our Yellow Slave. 
 
 The processes of mining" gold which still 
 remains in its original home in the rocks 
 are far more complicated. There is a vast 
 amount of boring- to be done into the flinty 
 hearts of the mountains, with diamond- 
 pointed drills and with blasting-; and then 
 the rock, which is dotted with the precious 
 yellow flakes, has to be crushed between the 
 steel jaws of great mills. Much of the g-old 
 that is mined, too, is so chemically chang-ed 
 that it does not look like g-old at all, and re 
 quires special chemical processes to coax 
 it out. In gold (and silver) mining- mer 
 cury is one of the most important factors. 
 It is the mineral sheriff, and swift to arrest 
 any fugitive fleck of g-old that may come in 
 its way. The sluice boxes in extensive 
 placer mines, and the "sheets" in stamp 
 mills are all charged with quicksilver, 
 which saves a vast amount of the finer gold 
 dust that would be otherwise swept away 
 by the current of water for water is 
 equally essential in both kinds of mining. 
 
 There is no such thing as pure gold, 
 often as we hear the phrase. Nature s own 
 " virgin gold " is always alloyed with silver ; 
 and the very purest is but 98 or 97 per cent 
 gold. California gold averages about the 
 fineness of our American coin 90 per cent 
 pure. As a general rule, the lighter 
 
Our Yellow Slave. 157 
 
 color the purer the gold. The beautiful red 
 gold gets its color from a large alloy oi 
 copper. 
 
 It is an odd fact that the sea is full of 
 gold. No doubt at the bottom of that stu 
 pendous basin which has received for all 
 time the washings of all the world, there 
 is an incalculable wealth of golden dust ; but 
 the strange ocean mine is not all so deep 
 down as that. The sea water itself carries 
 gold in solution a grain of gold to every 
 ton of water, as a famous chemist has 
 shown. 
 
 Among the historical big nuggets found 
 in various parts of the world, there have 
 been some wonderful yellow lumps. In 
 Cabarrus county, N. C., one was found in 
 1810 which weighed thirty-seven pounds 
 Troy. In 1842 the gold fields of Zlatoust, 
 in the Ural, gave a nugget of ninety-six 
 pounds Troy. The Victoria (Australia) 
 nugget weighed one hundred and forty-six 
 pounds and three pennyweights, of which 
 only six ounces was foreign rock ; and the 
 Ballarat (Australia) nugget was thirty-nine 
 pounds heavier yet. The largest nugget 
 ever found was also dug in Australia the 
 "Sarah Sands," named for a far-off loved 
 one. It reached the astonishing weight of 
 two hundred and thirty-three pounds and 
 
158 Our Yellow Slave 
 
 four ounces Troy! I wonder what Miner 
 Sands felt when he stuck his pick into that 
 fortune in one lump ! 
 
 The quality which makes gold commer 
 cially the most valuable of the metals is its 
 docility. The cunning ham mer of the smith 
 can "teach" it almost any thing. The more 
 stubborn metals crumble after a certain 
 point; but gold can be hammered into asheet 
 so infinitely fine that 282,000 of them, piled 
 one upon the other, would be but an inch 
 thick ! And a flake of gold tiny as a pin- 
 head can be drawn out, a finer thread than 
 ever man spun, to a length of five hundred 
 feet! 
 
 There is no end to the uses of gold. 
 They broaden every day. In some one of 
 its many forms our Yellow Slave helps us 
 in almost every art and walk of life. It has 
 become as indispensable as its red fellow- 
 slave, fire and like fire can be as bad a 
 master as it should be a good servant. 
 
The Peak of Gold 
 
The Peak of Gold. 
 
 * 
 
 THE most remarkable myths that ap 
 pear in American history are those 
 which were so eagerly listened to by the 
 early Spanish conquerors, who overran 
 two-thirds of the two Americas long- before 
 the Saxons so much as attempted a foot 
 hold in the New World. There was the 
 famous myth of El Dorado in South America 
 a living man covered from head to foot 
 with pure gold dust and nuggets. In Mex 
 ico was the fable of Montezuma s untold 
 tons of gold and bushels of precious stones, 
 and many other impossible things. Ponce 
 de Leon, the gallant conqueror of Puerto 
 Rico, paid with his life for the credulity 
 which led him to the first of our states ever 
 entered by a European, in quest of an 
 alleged fountain of perpetual youth a but 
 terfly which some of the world s learned 
 doctors are still chasing under another 
 form. And all across the arid Southwest 
 the hot winds have scattered the dust of 
 brave but too-believing men who fell in the 
 desert through which they pursued some 
 
1 62 The Peak of Gold. 
 
 glittering- shape of the American golden 
 fleece. When Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca, 
 the first American traveler, walked across 
 this continent from ocean to ocean, over 
 three hundred and fifty years ago, he heard 
 from the Indians many gilded myths, and 
 chief of them were those concerning the 
 famous Seven Cities of Cibola. So enorm 
 ously abundant was gold said to be in these 
 Indian cities, that it was put to the meanest 
 uses. When Vaca got to the Spanish settle 
 ments in Mexico and told this wonderful 
 report it made a great commotion, and soon 
 afterward that great explorer, Francisco 
 Vasquez de Coronado, came to the Seven 
 Cities of Cibola which surrounded the 
 site of the present Pueblo Indian town of 
 Zuni in the extreme west of New Mexico. 
 But instead of the dazzling cities he ex 
 pected, Coronado found only seven adobe 
 towns, without an ounce of gold (or any 
 other metal, for that matter) towns which 
 were wonderfully curious, but which sorely 
 disheartened the brave Spanish pioneers. A 
 little later Coronado heard equally astound 
 ing tales of a still more golden aboriginal 
 city the fabulous Gran Quivira and set 
 out to find it. After a marvelous march 
 which took him almost to where Kansas 
 City now is, he found the, Quivira but no 
 
The Peak of Gold. 163 
 
 gold, of course. And it has been the same 
 ever since. Coronado s footsore men ran 
 down their fables in 1541. Certainly not a 
 decade, and very likely not a year, has 
 passed since then in which some equally 
 preposterous story of incalculable treasures 
 has not been born and found followers in the 
 Southwest. 
 
 I know of but one thing- in the world more 
 remarkable than that the Spaniards should 
 have believed such self-evident myths; and 
 that one thing- is that so many, many Amer 
 icans believe them to-day. Not long- ago I 
 visited the most remote and inaccessible 
 ruins in the Southwest, and found there the 
 work of these sanguine dupes, who had 
 actually dug through solid rock in search of 
 buried treasure. And even while I write a 
 party is digging, a hundred miles to the 
 west, for a treasure as mythical, and as 
 palpably so, as that at the end of the rain 
 bow. The stories of golden mountains, of 
 buried millions and of mysterious "lost 
 mines " far richer, of course, than those 
 which any one can find in New Mexico 
 alone would fill a volume. 
 
 I had once the good fortune to run across 
 some old and fragmentary Spanish manu 
 scripts of the last century and the begin 
 ning of this, which are extremely interest- 
 
1 64 The Peak of Gold. 
 
 ing-. It is not often that we get so much 
 documentary evidence concerning- the gold 
 en will-o -the-wisps which have lured so 
 many to disappointment and death. The 
 writings all bear the stamp of implicit be 
 lief, and the old soldier, in particular, who 
 is the hero of the fragmentary story, is of 
 ten unconsciously eloquent and sometimes 
 pathetic in his recital. I translate all the 
 documents literally. 
 
 The first manuscript is a certified copy 
 (certified in the City of Mexico, March 5, 
 1803), of the " relation " and petition of Ber 
 nardo de Castro, a copy for which the Span 
 ish governor of New Mexico had sent. 
 Bernardo s story and appeal are as follows, 
 rendering as closely as possible the quaint 
 language of the day : 
 
 "Most Excellent Sir: Bernardo de Cas 
 tro, retired sergeant of the company of San 
 Carlos [St. Charles] of the government of 
 the City of Chihuahua, in the Provinces of 
 the Interior, admitted to citizenship in the 
 City of Santa Fe, capital of the kingdom of 
 New Mexico, and resident of this capital, 
 goes on and before Your Excellency says: 
 That having served our Royal Monarch for 
 the space of nine years and eight months as 
 sergeant of the said company in the count 
 less combats at which I assisted against the 
 
The Peak of Gold. 165 
 
 nations of the ynfidels [Indians], I came out 
 with a lance-thrust in one leg, of the which 
 it resulted that I was placed in the Ynvalid 
 corps by the Sir Commander Don Juan de 
 Ugalde. But considering 1 that with time 
 and medicines I recovered and gained 
 strength to seek my subsistence free from 
 the hardships to which the frontier troop 
 is exposed from the Mecos [probably the 
 Apaches], I gave up for the benefit of the 
 royal exchequer my pay as invalid sergeant, 
 and have followed working in the same 
 kingdom of New Mexico. There I have 
 suffered various fights as it befell in the 
 past year of 1798, that while I was conduct 
 ing a multitude of large cattle and other 
 eifects, the whole valued at more than 
 $14,000, from New Mexico to El Paso del 
 Norte, the barbarous Mecos assailed me, 
 and after a long battle, in which flowed 
 much human blood, they carried off all I 
 had in the world. And we gave to God 
 thanks for having saved us even the life. 
 
 " This continual contact with the savages 
 has contracted me a friendship with the 
 Cumanche nation, which is at peace with 
 the Spaniards, and understanding their 
 idiom facilitates me in trading with them to 
 gain my livelihood. 
 
1 66 The Peak of Gold. 
 
 "In the past year, 1798, 1 arrived in Santa 
 Fe and presented myself to the Sir Gov 
 ernor Don Fernando Chacon. His Lord 
 ship informed me that there had come a 
 Frenchman and had shown him a piece of 
 metal of fine gold, assuring- him he kne\v 
 the spot where it was produced, and that it 
 was a peak which the ynfidel nations called 
 Peak of the Gold, where there was such an 
 abundant breeding-place of this precious 
 metal that all the peak and even its sur 
 roundings could with propriety be said to 
 be pure gold. That he offered to show the 
 spot if his Lordship would guard him with 
 three hundred men of troops, and this he 
 was bound to grant for the benefit of our 
 monarch. That the distance, he consid 
 ered, would be a matter of eight or nine 
 days journey. The faithful love to our 
 Sovereign animated the Sir Governor, and 
 he supplied the escort which had marched 
 two days before, and his said Lordship in 
 formed me that if he had found me in the 
 city he would have made me one of the com 
 manders. This offer inspired me, and I 
 offered to follow after the expedition, and 
 the love with which I have always served 
 my lord, the King, enabled me by the ut 
 most exertion to overtake the expedition, 
 
The Peak of Gold. 167 
 
 with which I incorporated myself on the 
 third day. 
 
 "And journeying on our course, on the 
 ninth day the French guide slipped away 
 from us, leaving us in the plains without 
 knowledge of the road to our desired peak. 
 At the which it was resolved by the leaders 
 of the expedition to return to Santa Fe. 
 But I, not suffering from the short march, 
 separated from the expedition and went on 
 alone to verify the report. And in the 
 rancherias [villages] of the Cumanches, 
 where I was entertained, when I told them 
 the trick and the mockery that the French 
 man had put upon us, they assured me with 
 one accord that the said Frenchman did not 
 know the location of the peak at all, and 
 that he had never been there, for the gold 
 which he took to New Mexico they them 
 selves had given him in exchange for vari 
 ous trinkets of coral, belts and other tri 
 fles. But that they knew the peak of gold, 
 that was indeed with an abundance never 
 seen before, and if I would go with them 
 they would show me it, and I could pick up 
 all I wished, and if we met any other nation 
 [of Indians] I should not be harmed if with 
 them, for they were all friends. 
 
 "Indeed, most illustrious Sir, only by my 
 fidelity and obedience to my superior could 
 
1 68 The Peak of Gold. 
 
 I contain myself not to march to the peak 
 without delay; and I told my friends the 
 Mecos Cumanches, that I was going to seek 
 permission of that Sir Governor of the New 
 Mexico, and with it would return. I ar 
 rived in Santa Fe and sought that permis 
 sion, but it was denied me. But continuing 
 my visits to the Mequeria [I find that] so 
 strong a desire have they formed for the 
 granting of that permission and the devel 
 opment of this treasure, and the facility 
 there is that the Spaniards enjoy it and that 
 their Sovereign make heavy his royal cof 
 fers, that I resolved to make a walk of more 
 than seven hundred leagues to seek the aid 
 and encouragement of Your Excellency. 
 [The brave sergeant so fully believed in his 
 Peak of Gold that he actually walked nearly 
 2, 200 miles alone through a most dangerous 
 country to- lay the matter before the Vice 
 roy in Mexico.] 
 
 "My plan being approved, it is unde 
 niable that the Royal treasury will be 
 swelled by the tithes and dues to the Royal 
 crown; new interest will animate men to 
 follow up the discovery, and there will be 
 civilized (with time and the friendship 
 which is contracted with the nations of the 
 Cumanches, Yutas and Navajosos) more 
 than three hundred leagues of virgin and 
 
The Peak of Gold. 169 
 
 powerful lands that being- reckoned the 
 distance from the city of Santa Fe to the 
 Peak of Gold. The inhabitants of the in 
 ternal provinces, who now live under the 
 yoke of the assaults of the hostile Indians, 
 will revive; it will be easier for the Sov 
 ereign to guard the frontiers of these his 
 vast dominions. Settlements will be made, 
 and insensibly will follow the conquest and 
 pacification of the ynfidels, who will easily 
 embrace the holy Gospel and come under 
 the faith of Jesus Christ. What results to 
 religion, to the monarch and to his vassals 
 are presented, even by this clumsy narra 
 tion ! 
 
 "I do not intend to burden the Royal 
 treasury with the slightest expense, nor do 
 I think to involve the Royal arms in actions 
 which might imperil the troops. My per 
 son is declared past its usefulness for the 
 Royal service, and I count myself as a dead 
 man for entering matters of importance. 
 But my military spirit does not falter, and I 
 only desire to manifest, even at the foot of 
 the tomb, my love to my Sovereign. With 
 only one faithful companion I intend to go 
 among my friends, the Cumanches, and, 
 with the protection and guidance of them, 
 to enter and explore the land, silently, with 
 out noise or preparation, to force a passage. 
 
170 The Peak of Gold. 
 
 Quietness, the gray shadows of the night 
 and our own courage are the only prepara 
 tions I make for the difficult undertaking, 
 and, above all, the divine aid. Having 
 found the desired Peak of Gold, charted 
 the roads to it, made the due surveys, and 
 gathered so much of the precious metal as 
 we can transport without making danger 
 (and under the divine favor), I will present 
 myself again to Your Excellency, and by 
 your Superiority will be taken such steps as 
 the state of the case demands. 
 
 "Under which considerations, and the 
 solid arguments which I have expressed, of 
 which Your Excellency can receive full con 
 firmation from the most excellent Senor 
 Don Pedro de Nava, commander-in-chief of 
 the interior provinces, and Don Joseph 
 Casiano Feaomil y Garay, lieutenant-captain 
 of dragoons of San Luis Potosi, I humbly 
 beg of Your Excellency that in use of your 
 Viceroyal powers, you deign to grant me 
 your superior permission to go in search of 
 the Peak of Gold ; being kind enough to send 
 to the Senor Don Fernando Chacon, actual 
 Governor of the New Mexico, that he put 
 no difficulty in my path, and giving orders 
 to the captains and chiefs of the friendly 
 nations Cumanches, Yutas and Navajosos 
 
The Peak of Gold. 171 
 
 that they accompany and guide me in this 
 expedition. 
 
 "And I respectfully say that my delay in 
 getting to this Capital [the City of Mexico] 
 was because I had to come nearly all the 
 way on foot, my horse having- given out in 
 that great distance, and that now I am sup 
 ported here by alms, such is my great anx 
 iety for the benefit of the monarch, and 
 beg- that I be excused for this paper. [He 
 was too poor to buy the stamped and taxed 
 paper on which petitions to the Viceroy 
 must be addressed.] 
 
 " For so much I pray Your Excellency s 
 favor. BERNARDO CASTRO." 
 
 He had the real spirit of the Argonauts, 
 this crippled old soldier, to whom poverty 
 and danger and 2,000-mile walks were trifles 
 when they stood between him and his Peak 
 of Gold. 
 
 The Viceroy evidently gave the desired 
 permission without which, under the 
 strict Spanish laws, no such venture was to 
 be thought of and there were one or more 
 expeditions, but unfortunately we have left 
 no account of them. It is clear that the 
 Viceroy ordered Governor Chacon, of New 
 Mexico, to assist Castro in his undertaking, 
 and that the matter aroused a good deal of 
 interest throughout the provinces of New 
 
172 The Peak of Gold 
 
 Spain. Don Nemecio Salcedo, military com 
 mandant at Chihuahua, seems to have inter 
 ested himself in the matter, for the next 
 document in this fragmentary series is a 
 draft of a reply to him from Governor 
 Chacon, as follows: 
 
 " According- to that which Your Lordship 
 advises me in communication of the 16th 
 of September of the current year, I repeat 
 that as to the expedition of Bernardo Castro 
 to the discovery of the Peak of Gold, I will 
 help him and the others who accompany 
 him, that they may have no difficulty with 
 the General of the Cumanches, whom, how 
 ever, I have not yet seen, since he has not 
 yet returned with the ransom he offered me 
 when he was last in this capital. 
 
 "God, etc. Santa Fee, 25th of Fber, 1803. 
 
 " To Senor Don Nemo. Salcedo. * 
 
 There was other correspondence be 
 tween these two on the same matter, for 
 now we come to an original letter from 
 Commandant Salcedo to Governor Chacon, 
 replying- to a late one of his. It says : 
 
 " The communication of Your Lordship, 
 No. 36, of the 18th of last November, leaves 
 me informed of all the assistances you gave 
 Bernardo Castro, that he might undertake 
 the second journey [so he had already made 
 one] from that city, with the object to dis- 
 
The Peak of Gold. 173 
 
 cover the Peak of Gold, which he has de 
 scribed in the territory of that province. 
 And of the results I hope Your Lordship 
 will give me account. 
 
 " God guard Your Lordship many years. 
 
 " CHIHUAHUA, January 5, 1804. 
 
 "NEMECIO SALCEDO. 
 
 " To the Sir Governor of New Mexico. 
 
 Poor brave, misguided Bernardo de Cas 
 tro! I wish we might have more of the 
 documents about his venturesome wander 
 ings in quest of the Peak of Gold. He 
 must have gone far out into the wastes of 
 Texas; and at last he, too, yielded up his 
 life, as did countless of his countrymen 
 before him, to that deadliest of yellow fe 
 vers. We lose all track of him until Gov 
 ernor Chaves writes from Santa Fe, in 
 1829, to his superior in the City of Mex 
 ico, who had written to ask him about these 
 and other matters. His letter says : 
 
 "Most Excellent Sir: In compliance with 
 that which Your Excellency requests in 
 your official letter of the 19th of August 
 last, that I make the necessary verifications 
 upon the mineral reported by the Rev. 
 Father Custodian of these missions, Fray 
 Sevastian Alvares, to be found among the 
 gentile Comanches, I have investigated the 
 matter, and place in the knowledge of Your 
 
174 The Peak of Gold. 
 
 Excellency that which various of the citi 
 zens of this capital and all of them most 
 veracious say. They all agree in that it 
 is a fact that Don Bernardo de Castro [the 
 old soldier had evidently won honorable rec 
 ognition, else a Governor of New Mexico 
 would not speak of him by the respectful 
 title of "Don"] entered this territory with 
 the object of seeking the said mineral ; that 
 he made various expeditions with this ob 
 ject, until in one of them he was slain by 
 the heathen Apaches. 
 
 "Passing to information received from 
 the travelers to that nation, all agree in the 
 statement that the Comanches offer to sell 
 them pouches filled with a metal which ap 
 pears fine and of great weight, which they 
 say they get from the neighborhood of the 
 Ash peaks (which are very well known to 
 our people, but not explored or charted, 
 because they are distant from the trails). 
 
 " The citizen Pablo Martin has been he 
 who expressed himself most fully. He, 
 knowing that the said Don Bernardo de 
 Castro sought a mineral in the Comanche 
 nation, has procured them to look for the 
 said mineral. The only result was that 
 one Comanche named Pano de Lienso 
 [ Cloth of Linen ], who made himself his 
 companion, gave him information that be- 
 
The Peak of Gold. 175 
 
 yond the Ash peaks, in some round hills, 
 were stones with much silver, whereof the 
 said Comanche had carried some to the 
 province of San Antonio de Bejar [Texas], 
 where they made buttons for him. He who 
 made the buttons charged the Comanche to 
 bring 1 him a load [of that me-tal], but he did 
 not do so, because in that time came the 
 war of his people with that province. Other 
 Comanches also have told him [Pablo Mar 
 tin] that in said spot were stones with 
 silver. 
 
 "This is all I have been able to find out 
 as the results of my investigations, the 
 which I place in the knowledge of Your Ex 
 cellency, that you may put it to the use 
 which you deem best. 
 
 " SANTA FEE, 30 of 8ber of 1829. 
 
 "CHAVES." 
 
 And there, so far as we know it now, is 
 the story of the Peak of Gold. 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt 
 
IN TA-BI-RA 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 A PUEBLO FAIRY TALE TOLD OVER. 
 
 THE yellow cottonwoods above the Rio 
 Grande shivered in the fresh Octo 
 ber morning- as the sun peeped over the 
 Eagle Feather mountain into the valley of 
 his peoplec Above the flat, gray pueblo of 
 Shee-eh-huib-bak the bluish breath of five 
 hundred slender chimneys melted skyward 
 in tall spirals. Upon here and there a level 
 housetop a blanket-swathed figure stared 
 solemnly at the great, round, blinding 
 house of T hoor-id-deh, the Sun Father. 
 
 Then a burro, heavy eared and slow of 
 pace, rattled the gravel on the high bluff, 
 gazed mournfully on the muddy eddies, and 
 broke out in stentorian brays. Apparently 
 Flo jo* felt downcast. Across these treach 
 erous quicksands the grass was still tall in 
 the vega why did not Pablo take him over 
 too? And mustering up his ears, he trotted 
 almost briskly down the slope to the water s 
 edge, where a swart young Apollo was just 
 stepping into the swift current. Tall, 
 sinewy, lithe as Keem-ee-deh, the mountain 
 
i8o Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 lion that lent its tawny hide for the bow- 
 case in his hand ; his six feet of glowing 
 bronze broken only by a modest clout of 
 white at the supple waist, his dense black 
 hair falling- straight upon broad, bare 
 shoulders, and his dark eyes watchful of 
 the swirling- waters, the young- Pueblo 
 strode sturdily in, paying- no heed to the 
 forlorn watcher upon the shore. In a mo 
 ment he was in the channel swimming- 
 easily, one hand holding- the bow-case above 
 the red bundle upon his jet crown. Sush- 
 shl stish-sh! splosh! splash! splash! and 
 Flojo heaved a great sig-h as his master 
 went spattering- across the farther shoals, 
 and at last climbed the sandy eastern 
 bank. 
 
 Pablo unrolled the bundle from his head, 
 wriggled, wet-skinned, into the red print 
 shirt and snowy calzoncillos, wrapped their 
 flapping- folds about his calf with the buck 
 skin leg-g-ing-s of rich maroon ; belted these 
 at either knee with a wee, g-ay sash from 
 the looms of Moqui, fastened the moccasins 
 with their silver buttons, and, with the 
 tawny sheath of bow and arrows slung 
 across his back, started at a swift walk. 
 Once only he stopped, after a scramble up 
 the gravel hills that scalloped the plateau, 
 to look back a moment. The long ribbon 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 181 
 
 of the valley, now faded from its summer 
 green, banded the bare brown world from 
 north to south, threaded with the errant 
 silver of the river, whose farthest shimmer 
 flashed back from under the purple mass of 
 the Mountain of the Thieves. Midway lay 
 the pueblo, dozing- amid its orchards below 
 the black cone of the Ku-mai, and Pablo 
 shook his head sadly, as he turned ag-ain 
 and strode across the broad, hig-h llano. 
 
 "It is not well in the village," he mut 
 tered, " for it is full of them that have the 
 evil road. The Cum-pah-huit-lah-wen have 
 told me that the half of those of Shee-eh- 
 huib-bak are witches; but not all can be 
 punished. But it is in ill times for us. 
 Tio Lorenzo is twisted by the Bads so that 
 he cannot walk ; and many die ; and did not 
 Amparo and Jose Dieg-o marry the prettiest 
 maidens of the Tee-wahn, only to find them 
 witches? How shall one take a wife when 
 so many are accursed? It is better to hunt 
 and forg-et the women, as do the warriors; 
 for we know not who are True Believers, 
 and who have to do with the g-hosts." 
 
 Across the wide, sandy plateau the young- 
 Indian walked with undiminished pace ; and 
 as the house of the Sun Father stood in the 
 middle of the sky, he entered a rocky canon 
 of the Eagle Feather mountain and beg-an 
 
1 82 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 to climb a spur of the great peak. The 
 huddled dry leaves under a live oak caught 
 his eye, and he turned them with deft foot. 
 "Here Pee-id-deh, the deer, slept last 
 night," he exclaimed, " for the fresh earth 
 clings to their under side. And here is a 
 hair, and here the footmark. If only Keem- 
 ee-deh will help me." 
 
 Kneeling- by the tree, he broke off a twig 
 and stuck it in the earth in front of the foot 
 print, the fork pointing- backward, that 
 Pee-id-deh might trip and fall as it ran. 
 Then, drawing the Left-Hand Pouch from 
 his side, he opened it and reverently took 
 out a tiny parcel in buckskin, whose folds 
 soon disclosed a little image of the Mount 
 ain Lion, chief of hunters, carved from 
 adamantine quartz. Its eyes were of the 
 sacred turquoise; and in the center of the 
 belly was inlaid a turquoise heart over the 
 hollow which held a pinch of the holy corn 
 meal. On the right side was lashed a tiny 
 arrow-head of moss agate one of the pre 
 cious "thunder knives" which the Horned 
 Toad had made and had left for Pablo on 
 the plains of the Hollow Peak of Winds. 
 Putting the fetich to his mouth and inhal 
 ing from the stone lips, the hunter prayed 
 aloud to Keem-ee-deh to give him true eyes 
 and ears, and swift feet to overtake; and 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 183 
 
 rising-, gave a low, far roar to terrify the 
 heart and loosen the knees of his prey. 
 Then, restoring- the imag-e to its pouch, with 
 bow in hand and three arrows held ready, 
 he pushed rapidly up hill, with keen eyes to 
 the dim trail. Here a trampled grass blade, 
 there a cut leaf or overturned pebble, and 
 again a faint scratch on the rocks, led him 
 on. At last, just where the flat top of the 
 mountain had been wrought to a vast arrow- 
 point by. the Giant of the Caves, he saw a 
 sleek doe standing under a shabby aspen. 
 Down on his belly went Pablo, and with a 
 new breath-taking from the stone lips of the 
 prey-god, crawled snake-like forward. The 
 deer moved not, and within fifty yards Pa 
 blo tugged an arrow to its agate head and 
 drove it whirring through Pee-id-deh s 
 heart. The doe turned her great, soft eyes 
 toward him, sniffed the air and went bound 
 ing up the rocky ledges as if unhurt. Yet 
 on the left side the grey feathers of the 
 shaft touched the skin; and once on the 
 right Pablo caught the sparkle of the gem 
 
 tip. 
 
 There was a curious ashen tint in the 
 bronze of his cheeks, as the hunter sprang 
 to his feet and began running in pursuit. 
 " Truly, that was to the life," he whispered 
 to himself. "And why does she not fall? 
 
1 82 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 to climb a spur of the great peak. The 
 huddled dry leaves under a live oak caught 
 his eye, and he turned them with deft foot. 
 "Here Pee-id-deh, the deer, slept last 
 night," he exclaimed, " for the fresh earth 
 clings to their under side. And here is a 
 hair, and here the footmark. If only Keem- 
 ee-deh will help me." 
 
 Kneeling by the tree, he broke off a twig 
 and stuck it in the earth in front of the foot 
 print, the fork pointing backward, that 
 Pee-id-deh might trip and fall as it ran. 
 Then, drawing the Left-Hand Pouch from 
 his side, he opened it and reverently took 
 out a tiny parcel in buckskin, whose folds 
 soon disclosed a little image of the Mount 
 ain Lion, chief of hunters, carved from 
 adamantine quartz. Its eyes were of the 
 sacred turquoise; and in the center of the 
 belly was inlaid a turquoise heart over the 
 hollow which held a pinch of the holy corn 
 meal. On the right side was lashed a tiny 
 arrow-head of moss agate one of the pre 
 cious "thunder knives" which the Horned 
 Toad had made and had left for Pablo on 
 the plains of the Hollow Peak of Winds. 
 Putting the fetich to his mouth and inhal 
 ing from the stone lips, the hunter prayed 
 aloud to Keem-ee-deh to give him true eyes 
 and ears, and swift feet to overtake; and 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 183 
 
 rising-, gave a low, far roar to terrify the 
 heart and loosen the knees of his prey. 
 Then, restoring- the imag-e to its pouch, with 
 bow in hand and three arrows held ready, 
 he pushed rapidly up hill, with keen eyes to 
 the dim trail. Here a trampled grass blade, 
 there a cut leaf or overturned pebble, and 
 ag-ain a faint scratch on the rocks, led him 
 on. At last, just where the flat top of the 
 mountain had been wroug-ht to a vast arrow- 
 point by the Giant of the Caves, he saw a 
 sleek doe standing- under a shabby aspen. 
 Down on his belly went Pablo, and with a 
 new breath-taking- from the stone lips of the 
 prey-g-od, crawled snake-like forward. The 
 deer moved not, and within fifty yards Pa 
 blo tug-g-ed an arrow to its ag-ate head and 
 drove it whirring- throug-h Pee-id-deh s 
 heart. The doe turned her great, soft eyes 
 toward him, sniffed the air and went bound 
 ing- up the rocky ledg-es as if unhurt. Yet 
 on the left side the grey feathers of the 
 shaft touched the skin; and once on the 
 rig-ht Pablo caug-ht the sparkle of the g-em 
 
 tip. 
 
 There was a curious ashen tint in the 
 bronze of his cheeks, as the hunter sprang- 
 to his feet and beg-an running- in pursuit. 
 " Truly, that was to the life," he whispered 
 to himself. "And why does she not fall? 
 
184 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 Will it be that they of the evil road have 
 given me the eye? " And stopping- short, he 
 fished out a bit of corn husk and a pinch of 
 the sweet pee-dn-hleh and rolled a cigarette, 
 lighting- it from his flint and steel. The 
 first puff he blew slowly to the east, and 
 then one to the north, and one to the west, 
 and one south, one overhead, and one down 
 ward, all about, that the evil spirits of the 
 Six Ways might be blinded and not see his 
 tracks. When the sacred iveer was smoked, 
 he rose and took up the trail again. It was 
 easy to be followed, now, in the soft wood 
 soil of the mountain top; and in the very 
 edge of the farther grove of aspens he saw 
 the doe again, grazing in unconcern. Worm 
 ing from tree to tree, Pablo came close, and 
 again sent a stone-tipped shaft. It struck 
 by the very side of the first, and drank as 
 deep; but the doe, pricking up her ears as 
 if she had but heard the whizz of the arrow, 
 trotted easily away and disappeared over 
 the eastern brow of the mountain, amid the 
 somber pines. 
 
 Pablo was very pale now, but not yet 
 daunted. He smoked again to the Six Ways 
 and prayed to all the Trues to help him, 
 and with another arrow on the string, 
 pushed forward. 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 185 
 
 Where the tall pines dwindled to scrubby 
 cedars he came again to his quarry. But 
 now the doe was more alert and would not 
 let him within bowshot. Only she looked 
 back at him with big, sad eyes and trotted 
 just away from range. And soon Night 
 rolled down the mountain from behind him 
 and filled the whispering forest and drowned 
 the great, still plains beyond, and he lost 
 her altogether. 
 
 "This is no deer," said Pablo, gloomily, 
 as he stretched himself under a twisted 
 savino for the night, " but one who has ivahr, 
 the Power. And her eyes, how they are as 
 those of women sorrowing, large and wet! 
 But I will see the end, even though I die." 
 And weary with the rugged forty miles of 
 the day, he was soon asleep. 
 
 As the blue flower of dawn bloomed from 
 the eastern gray, Pablo rose, and* smoked 
 again the sacred smoke and inhaled the 
 strengthful breath of Keem-ee-deh, and 
 started anew on his awesome hunt. Soon 
 he found the trail marked with dark 
 blotches, and all day long he followed it. 
 Just as the sun-house stood on the dark 
 western ridges he came to the foot of a high 
 swell, on whose summit gleamed the gray 
 of strange, giant walls. 
 
1 86 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 "It will be the bones of Ta-bi-ra," thought 
 Pablo aloud, "for my father often told me 
 of the great city of the Pi-ro that was be 
 yond Cuaray in the First Times, before the 
 lakes of the plain were accursed to be salt, 
 before Those-of-the-Old came to dwell on 
 the river that runs from the Dark Lake of 
 Tears. But how shall a deer come thus 
 into the plains, which are only of the prong- 
 horns?* Yet I have walked in her road all 
 day, and here are her marks, going " and 
 he stopped, for his sharp ear caught a faint, 
 far-off chant. It seemed to come from the 
 ruins that crowned the hill; and, dropping 
 to the earth, Pablo began to crawl from 
 cedar to cedar, from rock to rock toward it. 
 At the very crest of the rounded ridge was 
 a long line of jumbled stone the mound of 
 fallen fortress houses and beyond, from 
 the gathering dusk, loomed the ragged, 
 lofty walls of a vast temple. Under the 
 shadows of the mound he crawled far 
 around to the rear end of the gray wall, and 
 then along the wall itself toward the huge 
 buttresses that proclaimed its front. The 
 chant was close at hand now the singer 
 was evidently within the ruined temple. 
 But the tongue Pablo did not know. It was 
 not so musical as his soft Tee-wahn, nor 
 
 * Antelopes. 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 187 
 
 was it like the guttural of the Queres for 
 that he knew also and yet it was some 
 voice of the Children of the Sun, and not the 
 outlandish babble of the Americanoodeh, 
 nor of the Spanish Wet-Head. It was not, 
 then, some new tonto come to dig- for the 
 fabled gold of Ta-bi-ra whose shafts 
 yawned black in the gray bedrock and here 
 and there through the very base of the 
 great wall but some Indian, and probably 
 a medicine man, for the song was not as 
 those of the careless. Pablo crouched in 
 the darkness against the eastern end of the 
 wall, listening, forgetful of the bewitched 
 deer and of all else. Once in a wild swell 
 of the song he thought he discerned a fa 
 miliar word. 
 
 " Hoo-mah-no? " he kept repeating to him 
 self. "Surely, the grandfather Desiderio 
 said me that word when he told of Them- 
 of-the-Old, when They-with-Striped-Faces 
 dwelt on yonder mesa. But they are all 
 dead these many years." 
 
 A swift, short flash split the darkness, 
 and a growl of far thunder rolled across the 
 ruins. Pablo glanced at the heaven. It 
 was sown thick with the bright sky-seeds 
 that flew up when the Coyote disobeyed 
 the Trues and opened the sacred bag. 
 From horizon to horizon there was not a 
 
1 88 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 cloud; but again the flash came, and again 
 the mighty drum-beat of Those Above. 
 Pablo crept to a breach in the wall, and 
 peeped into the gloomy interior of the 
 temple. Even as he looked, the zig-zag 
 arrow of the Trues leaped again from 
 ghostly wall to wall ; and its blinding flight 
 showed him that at which he caught his 
 breath. For squat by a corner in the wall 
 was a white-headed Indian waving his bare 
 arms; and facing him and Pablo a dusky 
 maiden, with drooping head. But her face 
 was burned into his heart. 
 
 " Surely, such are precious to the Trues! 
 For she is as the Evening Star, good to 
 see!" and Pablo craned forward eagerly. 
 "The viejo will be a Shaman," he added, 
 mentally, "for so our own Fathers make 
 the lightning come at the medicine dance.* 
 But she! If there were such in Shee-eh- 
 huib-bak, then one might take a wife for 
 her face is no face of a witch ! " 
 
 Just then there came another flash; and 
 then a soft, girlish cry. The magic light 
 ning of the conjurer had betrayed Pablo; 
 and before he could spring away a heavy 
 hand was upon his shoulder. 
 
 *These artificial storms are a favorite illusion of the 
 Indian wizards of the Southwest. 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 189 
 
 " Hi-ma-tu-ku-eh?" demanded a deep voice 
 in an unknown tongue. 
 
 " Nah Tee-ivah" said the abashed hunter, 
 trying in vain to shake off that strong 
 grasp. 
 
 "Tee-wah?" said the stranger, speaking 
 in Pablo s own language. "I, too, have the 
 tongue of Shee-eh-huib-bak, for my wife 
 was of there. But now she has gone to 
 Shee-p ah-poon, and there lives for me only 
 my child, and she is hurt. But what hast 
 thou here, peeping at our medicine?" 
 
 "It is by chance, Kah-bay-deh," answered 
 Pablo. " For yesterday when the sun was 
 so, I wounded a deer, and unto here I have 
 followed it in vain. For, perhaps, it has the 
 Power, and I could not kill it. And when 
 I heard thy song I came, not knowing what 
 it was." 
 
 " Since yesterday when the sun was so, 
 thou hast followed the road of a wounded 
 deer? And how wounded? " 
 
 "In truth, I gave it two arrows through 
 the life, but it minded them not." 
 
 " Come, then, and thou shalt see thy 
 hunting," and he drew Pablo into the tem 
 ple. In a moment a dry arm of the entraiia 
 (which the Trues gave for the first candles) 
 was burning; and by its smoky, flaring 
 light Pablo could see his strange surround- 
 
igo Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 ings. Beside him, that breakless hand still 
 on his shoulder, stood an aged Indian. His 
 hair was white as the snows of Shoo-p ah- 
 too-eh, and his tmdimmed eyes shone from 
 deep under snowy brows. He was naked 
 but for the breech-clout, and upon his left 
 arm was a great gauntlet from the forepaw 
 of Ku-ai-deh, the bear, with all its claws. 
 But at his wrinkled face Pablo stared in 
 affright, for all across it ran long-, savage 
 knife-stripes, so old that they, too, were cut 
 with wrinkles. "Ray ado! " flashed through 
 the young 1 hunter s mind, "even as were 
 They-of-the-Old who dwelt in the mesa of 
 the Hoo-mah-no! But they are all dead since 
 long ago." 
 
 But even his superstitious terror could 
 not keep his eyes from that modest figure 
 crouched in the angle of the strange wall. 
 Truly, she was good to look at. In the soft 
 olive of the cheeks a sweet, deep red was 
 spreading. Under the downcast eyes the 
 lashes drew dark lines across the translu 
 cent skin. A flood of hair poured into her 
 lap, and from under its heavy waves peeped 
 a slender hand. It was plain from her dress 
 that she was none of the bdrbaros, but a 
 Pueblo. There was the same modest black 
 mania of his people, the same fat, boot-like 
 leg-wraps of snowy buckskin, the same 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 191 
 
 dainty brown moccasins. Even the heavy 
 silver rosary was about her neck, and from 
 her ears hung- strands of precious turquoise 
 beads from the white, blue-veined heart of 
 Mount Chalchihuitl. But even the white sil 
 ver, and the stone that stole its color from 
 the sky were not precious beside that sweet 
 young face from which Pablo could not turn 
 away. 
 
 And as he gazed with a strange warm 
 tickling at his heart strings, the long lashes 
 lifted timidly toward the handsome stran 
 ger, and on a sudden the bright face turned 
 ashen, and the girl sank back upon a heap 
 of fallen stones. Pablo stared with wide 
 eyes, and a dizziness ran from head to knee, 
 for there were dark drops upon the rocks, 
 and amid the flowing hair he saw the notched 
 ends of two arrows his very own, feath 
 ered from the gray quills of Koor-nid-deh, 
 the crane. He reeled, to fall, but the strong 
 hand held him up and the strong voice said: 
 
 " Take the heart of a man, for it is not yet 
 too late. Thou hast done this, unknowing; 
 for the witches filled thine eyes with smoke, 
 to fool thee. But we will yet make medicine 
 to heal my daughter for I am the wizard 
 T bo-deh, the last of the Hoo-mah-no, and 
 precious to Those Above, who will help us. 
 But thou hast still arrows in the quiver 
 
192 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 go, then, till them come to the first cliff on 
 the west, and shoot three arrows strongly 
 into the sky. And bring to me that which 
 falls for it needs that thou-who hast shed 
 her blood shouldst bring it again. Nay, 
 tremble not, for the Trues will help thee; 
 and with this amulet of the striped stone 
 the witches cannot come nigh. Take the 
 heart of a man, and go! " 
 
 Pablo looked at the pitiful little heap in 
 the corner, and turning, manfully strode 
 out through the broad portal and went 
 stumbling westward in the darkness, over 
 mounds and hollows and fallen walls. Down 
 the long, steep ridge, across the undulant 
 plain, knee-deep in dry and whispering 
 grass, and up the western slope of the val 
 ley he trudged ; and at last in the darkness 
 ran up against a smooth, straight face of 
 rock. "It is the cliff," he shivered for he 
 feared greatly. But plucking up his soul, 
 he backed away a few paces from the rock 
 and notched a shaft and drew it to the head 
 and sent it hurtling to the sky, and another 
 and another. For a long time he waited, 
 and then there was a soft whisk I and an 
 arrow stood in the earth at his feet. He 
 groped and found it and drew back his hand 
 quickly, for shaft and feathers were wet 
 with that soft, warm, ticklish wetness that 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 193 
 
 never came from water yet. Another arrow 
 fell and it was so, and so also was the third. 
 
 Shaken as are the leaves of the shivering 
 tree,* Pablo put to his lips the amulet of 
 the wizard and drew a long- breath from it. 
 Then, gingerly plucking- the standing- ar 
 rows one by one, he started running- from 
 the haunted spot, not resting- in his stum 
 bling- flig-ht until he found himself at the foot 
 of the hill of Ta-bi-ra. In a few moments 
 he was groping- along- the great wall, and at 
 last stood again within the roofless temple. 
 
 Now there was a tiny fire there, and the 
 old man was squatted by it chanting- and 
 snapping- two long- feathers tog-ether in 
 rhythm with his wild refrain. And in the 
 corner was the same dark, limp heap, which 
 seemed to drift near or farther away on the 
 waves of the firelight. 
 
 "It is well!" said the old man, rising-; 
 "for already I have blown away the evil 
 ones, that we be alone. And I see that thou 
 hast brought blood from above to pay for 
 that which is lost." 
 
 Taking from Pablo s hand the arrows, 
 still red-wet, he broke one over the fire and 
 one he thrust upright in the hard earth at 
 the maiden s feet. Then he rubbed his 
 
 * Aspen. 
 
194 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 hands with ashes and laid them upon her 
 breast, chanting-: 
 
 "Blood, water of life, 
 Come back in the brooks of the heart 1 
 Blood, water of life, 
 Give it to drink again 
 For the red field is dry 
 And nothing grows." 
 
 As he rubbed and sang the maiden stirred 
 and moved and sat up. And taking- the 
 third arrow he put the notch to his lips and 
 the barb to her side and drew with a strong- 
 breath, and the buried shaft grew long and 
 longer from her side, until it fell upon the 
 ground. So he drew the second shaft, and 
 it, too, came away and left her.* Then he 
 laid the arrow of power against her side 
 and the wounds were no more there; and 
 she rose and took the hand of Pablo to her 
 little mouth and breathed on it, and looked 
 up at him with timid eyes, but Pablo sank 
 down and knew nothing, for his strength 
 was done. 
 
 When he woke, the Sun-Father was high 
 over the gray ruins. Pablo found himself 
 upon a bed of dry grass, in the shadow of 
 the wall; and near him sat the old man who 
 was last of the Hoo-mah-no, watching him 
 with clear eyes. A low, sweet voice was 
 
 *This " drawing " of objects from the patient is another 
 stock trick of Pueblo " medicine-making." 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 195 
 
 crooning- a sleep-song- in his own tong-ue; 
 and from behind a jutting- wall peeped forth 
 a little moccasined foot. 
 
 Sleep ! Sleep ! It is good ! 
 Sleep the Moon-Mother gave 
 She that bought us the night, 
 Paying her sight to buy ! 
 Sleep ! For so She is glad !" 
 
 Pablo sat up, bending- forward if he 
 mig-ht see the sing-er; but there was only a 
 gleam of soft eyes around the wall, and 
 then they were g-one. The old man eyed 
 him kindly. He was dressed now like 
 Pablo, with the garments of the Pueblos; 
 and the stern, quiet face, with its strang-e 
 scar-stripes, seemed after all very good. 
 
 "Thou hast slept well, son," he said at 
 last, "for we have been here many hours. 
 But it is hard to fight them of the evil road, 
 and for that thou wast tired. But rise 
 now, eat and be strong, for other days 
 come." 
 
 As he spoke the maiden came bringing a 
 steaming earthen bowl and set it down tim 
 idly before the stranger, at whom she dared 
 not look, and disappeared again in her nook. 
 The hot broth revived the young hunter, 
 and a new heart came in him and he was 
 strong. When he had eaten, the old man 
 said: 
 
1 96 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 "Now thou art a man again. Tell me 
 how goes with the village of the Tee-wahn? 
 For in fifty winters I have not seen Shee- 
 eh-huib-bak since my wife had come from 
 there to P ah-que-too-ai, where I loved her. 
 Is it well with the town? Do they keep the 
 ways of the Old?" 
 
 "There are many True Believers," an 
 swered Pablo slowly, " but many have for 
 gotten the ways of the Old and taken the 
 evil road, so that it is hard to know who are 
 good, there are so many witches. For that, 
 the young men that believe in the Olds are 
 afraid to make nests, lest they find feathers 
 of the accursed birds therein for many 
 that look to be snowbirds are inwardly owls 
 and woodpeckers." 
 
 "And thou hast no nest? " asked the old 
 man with a keen glance. 
 
 " In-ddh-ah! " replied Pablo emphatically 
 and from the corner he caught a bright 
 gleam of eyes. 
 
 "It is well! For if the nest be bad, how 
 shall the young birds grow up clean? And 
 thy parents?" 
 
 " My father was War Captain of the Tee- 
 wahn," said Pablo proudly, "and he taught 
 me the ways of men, and the sacred stories 
 of the Old. But one gave him the evil eye, 
 and he was slain by the Cumanche in war. 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 197 
 
 My mother was a True Believer, and soon 
 she went after him, to make his house good 
 in Shee-p ah-poon. So there is left only my 
 grandfather, who is cacique, and my uncle. 
 And with my uncle I live, for we are troth 
 of the Eagle clan." 
 
 "It is well! But now it is to stay here 
 for a time; for in this place is mighty power 
 of the Olds. But if thou wilt hunt for us, 
 that Deer-Maiden may eat well while I fast 
 and talk with Those Above, then we will 
 go with thee to Shee-eh-huib-bak; for my 
 people are no more and my child is lonely 
 to be with the people of her mother. But 
 show me the ivahr with which thou huntest, 
 for perhaps the witches have blinded it. * 
 
 Pablo fished out the little stone image, 
 which he had never shown to man before, 
 and T bo-deh inhaled from its lips. 
 
 "It is so 1 " he said angrily; and prying 
 out the turquoise heart he showed the hun 
 ter that from beneath it the sacred meal 
 was gone, and in its place a tiny black 
 feather. " It is no wonder that thy hunting 
 was ill," he cried, "for the witches have 
 changed the heart of Keem-ee-deh ! But I 
 will give thee a strong ivahr that none can 
 kill," and breaking the polluted image with 
 a rock, he covered the fragments with a 
 cloth and chanted a sacred song. In a mo- 
 
198 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 ment the cloth moved, and the wizard drew 
 from under it a bright new Keem-ee-deh, 
 carved from the sunlight-stone, the yellow 
 topaz, and bound to its side was an arrow 
 head of transparent emerald. Its heart was 
 turquoise and its eyes red garnets. 
 
 "Take it, son, and fear not," said the aged 
 conjurer, "for it is stronger than the ghosts. 
 But now go and hunt, for there is no more 
 meat." 
 
 When Pablo toiled up the hill of ruins at 
 sundown a noble antelope was balanced 
 upon his shoulders and a fat wild turkey 
 dangled from his belt. He threw them down 
 proudly, and was paid with a shy glance 
 from the eyes that now lived in his heart, 
 and the old man said : 
 
 "The new -wahr\^ good ! And thou art 
 a hunter like Keem-ee-deh himself. Verily 
 there will be no lack of meat in thy house." 
 But at this the maiden ran away with a red 
 face, and Pablo s heart was glad. 
 
 For three days they were there while the 
 old man made medicine; and every day 
 Pablo brought back much game. And every 
 day his eyes grew deeper and those of the 
 maiden drooped lower. On the fourth day 
 they started, the three, to the northeast; 
 and with three journeys they came toShee- 
 eh-huib-bak. There Pablo brought the 
 
Pablo s Deer Hunt. 199 
 
 strangers to his grandfather, the cacique; 
 and when old Desiderio knew that this was 
 the great wizard, the last of the Hoo-mah- 
 no, he was very glad, and gave him of the 
 common lands, that his home should be al 
 ways there. 
 
 When the people of Shee-eh-huib-bak 
 were making clean for the Noche Buena, 
 Pablo came to the cacique, and said : "Tata, 
 there is another year, and I am tired to be 
 alone." 
 
 "But canst thou keep a wife?" 
 
 " Thou knowest, tata, that none kill more 
 game. As for*my fields, they are good, and 
 the careless-weed never grows there." 
 
 " It is truth, my son. And who is good in 
 thine eyes?" 
 
 "There is only one, tatita* and that is 
 Deer-Maiden, the child of the Hoo-mah-no. 
 She is very good." 
 
 "I like her," answered the withered ca 
 cique, slowly, "for her father has given 
 her a good heart, and they are both precious 
 to Those Above. It is well." 
 
 In four days the cacique and the Hoo- 
 mah-no brought Pablo and the Deer-Maiden 
 to the cacique s house and gave them to eat 
 two ears of raw corn to him a blue ear, 
 but to her a white one, for a woman s heart 
 is always whiter. Pablo looked at her as 
 
200 Pablo s Deer Hunt. 
 
 he ate, but she could not look. And when 
 both had proved themselves by eating- the 
 last grain, the elders took them out to the 
 sacred running-place and put them side by 
 side, and marked the course, and gave them 
 the road. Then Pablo went running like a 
 strong antelope, but the girl like a scared 
 fawn ; and up the sacred hill they flew, and 
 turned at the Stone of the Bell, and came 
 flying back. But now Pablo was slower, 
 for it is not well to surpass one s bride in 
 the marrying race, as if one would rob her 
 of respect; and if they come in equal, there 
 is no marriage. So she was first; and all 
 the people blessed them, and they were one. 
 No witch could ever harm their house, for 
 He-that-Was-Striped gave them strong 
 ^ and they were happy. 
 
Candelaria s Curse, 
 
Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 * 
 
 WHAT a snip-click! snip-click! snip- 
 click! of the big- steel shears, till the 
 corral rang- like an exaggerated telegraph 
 office! Hoarse voices kept calling- out 
 " Numer* uno!" " dieziseis!" "veintetres!" 
 and tall, handsome Lorenzo, standing- in a 
 corner with the tally card in his hand, pen 
 ciled a mark opposite No. 1, No. 16, No. 23, 
 and so on as each man called out the num 
 ber by which he was known. The calls 
 came fast, and for each one a shabby gray 
 shadow, looking- like the g-host of a boy 
 with a home hair-cut, "only more so," went 
 scurrying- into the ranks of his yet unshorn 
 fellows. The big- corral was full as it could 
 hold. Fifteen hundred sheep were there, 
 so tig-htly packed that a mouse tossed upon 
 their backs could hardly have found its way 
 to the ground between them. Only in the 
 triang-ular corners of the fence (which was 
 built of logs laid up in zig-zag s) was there a 
 trifle of room ; and it was from these that 
 all the noise came. In each was a fast- 
 
2O4 Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 swelling- heap of dirty, gray wool, and just 
 in front of it the shearer. Each, as he 
 turned a victim loose, yelled out his num 
 ber, to be tallied one, and running- upon the 
 huddled mass of sheep, caug-ht one by the 
 fleece with each hand, dragged it to his 
 corner, flopped it upon its side, knotted its 
 four sharp feet tog-ether with a dextrous 
 movement, and, snatching- the shears from 
 his belt, fell instantly to work. It was a 
 scene to bewilder an Eastern sheep-grower. 
 There were no shearing- tables. Each man 
 bent over, as thoug-h there were a hinge in 
 his waist, until his hands were within six 
 inches of the ground, and thus worked all 
 day long-. Holding- and turning- the sheep 
 with the left hand, with the right he drove 
 the sharp blades snipping through the wool 
 with startling rapidity till, almost before 
 one knew it, the whole fleece rolled off to 
 one side, very much as if it had been an un 
 broken pelt. As quick a motion freed the 
 feet again and the shorn creature scrambled 
 up and ran to hide his confusion, while the 
 shearer was already playing barber to the 
 "next gentleman." 
 
 So it was no sleepy work, tallying for the 
 thirty-seven swart fellows who were doing 
 Don Roman s fall shearing, and any one less 
 practiced than Lorenzo might have lost 
 
Candelaria s Curse. 205 
 
 count now and then. Every one seemed to 
 be working- his best, but the two cries that 
 came oftenest of any were "trece" and 
 " diezisiete" Number thirteen was a short, 
 thickset Mexican from Los Lunas, known 
 (because of his unusually dark complexion) 
 as Black Juan, and number seventeen was 
 that two-fisted Pedro of Cubero. They had 
 been for several years the two best shearers 
 in Valencia county, and therefore, very 
 naturally, rivals though in some way they 
 had never come together before. But now 
 finding 1 themselves, on the eve of the fall 
 clip of 50.000 sheep, face to face each with 
 a man he had never seen, but had disliked 
 for ten years, neither could refrain from a 
 slight curl of the lip. That fellow such a 
 guapo? Huh! He might make a noise 
 among the slowpokes down in the valley, 
 but beside a real shearer there wouldn t be 
 enough of him to make a shadow ! It was 
 not long before their thoughts came to 
 speech, and soon they had made a wager for 
 a sheep-shearing race on the morrow. The 
 ponies upon which they had come, their 
 tattered blankets and a large proportion of 
 their prospective wages were staked on 
 which should shear the more fleeces be 
 tween sunrise and sunset. 
 
2o6 Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 For eleven hours, now, the race had been 
 in progress. Lorenzo had given the word 
 when the first rim of sun peered above the 
 yellow mesas. At noon the other shearers 
 had taken the usual half hour to swallow 
 the rude meal of tortillas and roasted sheep- 
 ribs, but Juan and Pedro had worked dog 
 gedly on. The crunch of their shears 
 seemed never to stop, and against the num 
 bers thirteen and seventeen the little slant 
 ing- marks (each fourth one crossed) had 
 crept clear across the tally card and Loren 
 zo had to start a new line for each of them. 
 
 Five o clock five-thirty six and sud 
 denly the timekeeper shouted "Ya std!" 
 The noise redoubled for a moment as each 
 man hurried to finish his present sheep, 
 and then stopped. Bent backs straig-htened 
 slowly amid a general sig-h of relief. A 
 hard day, truly. Not a man in the corral, 
 even down to young- Blea, who had not 
 sheared his sixty or seventy sheep. But 
 the rivals? All crowded around Lorenzo as 
 he beg-an to count up. 
 
 " M m m twenty-four, twenty-five 
 twenty-five tallies and three. Pedro has 
 one hundred and twenty-eig-ht sheep 1 " And 
 Juan? "M m m twenty-seven tallies 
 and one one hundred and thirty-six! 
 
Candelaria s Curse. 207 
 
 Bravo! Que guapol" And the evening 
 air rang with shouts. 
 
 "Thou couldst not have done it fairly! " 
 growled Pedro, with rage in every line of 
 his dusty face. 
 
 "How, fairly, sleepyhead? Have I not 
 worked openly before all? " 
 
 But Pedro went over the fence sullenly 
 and walked away, muttering to himself. 
 Only when a couple of other shearers 
 joined him at his camp-fire did he give 
 further vent to his feelings. 
 
 "Thrice fool that I was," he snarled, "to 
 make a bet against that ! For clearly to-day 
 my shears were bewitched and would not 
 cut well. And you know well the why it 
 is that old bruja of a Candelaria who has 
 given them the evil eye! For yesterday, 
 as she passed, my dog ran at her, whereat I 
 laughed, and in the act she turned and 
 cursed me." 
 
 "Thou didst ill," said one of his compan 
 ions. "All know that she is a witch, and 
 works all manner of evil to them that offend 
 her. Why, there was Marcelino, who re 
 fused to give her meat when he killed a 
 sheep, and straightway she made a mouse 
 to steal into his stomach, so that it was near 
 to kill him." 
 
208 Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 "But I am not Marcelino, then, to go pay 
 a horse to another witch to cure me. No, I 
 will have-me-them with her. She shall pay 
 me for this loss and for the laughter they 
 have put upon me." 
 
 "What is that, Pedro ?" said young 
 Alonzo, coming- up just then and squatting 
 by the fire. " You wouldn t hurt the poor 
 old woman?" 
 
 "Who gave you a candle in this funeral?" 
 snapped the defeated shearer. "That is 
 what I will do. There are too many of these 
 brujas putting spells on innocent folks, and 
 there s only one way to cure them the 
 way they did in San Mateo last year. We 11 
 stone her for a witch. And much care thou, 
 that thou get not hurt also!" 
 
 The two others made no serious opposi 
 tion to Pedro s plan. They had nothing 
 against the old woman themselves, but 
 every one knew that such witches were a 
 great pest to the community perhaps it 
 would be a public service to put her out of 
 the way. Besides, they were rather used 
 to being led around by the nose by Pedro, 
 who, in addition to his prowess as a shearer, 
 was so powerful and reckless that he had 
 become the acknowledged leader of a cer 
 tain class. 
 
Candelaria s Curse. 209 
 
 " Pues, understood! We will go over 
 presently and give the old hag- a shower of 
 St. Peter s tears! And thou " turning 1 to 
 Alonzo, who was rising to go "the less 
 tongue, the less sore bones, eh?" 
 
 Candelaria lived across the arroyo in a 
 miserable little jacal of pinon* trunks 
 chinked with mud, right up against the side 
 of the great lava flow. She was a sorry- 
 looking hag; and, on seeing her, the first 
 thought of much better educated people 
 than Pedro would very likely have been: 
 "What an old witch!" She was tall and 
 gaunt and incredibly wrinkled, but with 
 such keen black eyes that almost every one 
 shrank at her gaze. 
 
 Alonzo himself was certainly not fond of 
 her, and probably it would not be too much 
 to say that he was secretly a bit afraid of 
 this grim, dark figure in greasy tatters, de 
 spite his year of school in the little mission 
 at San Rafael. But at thought of her be 
 ing stoned to death he felt a sudden revul 
 sion. 
 
 "But what to do? " he muttered to himself 
 as he slouched away from the camp-fire. 
 "Pedro is bad to meddle with, and no one 
 here will help me; even Don Roman is afraid 
 of the witches, and hates them. Ea! I will 
 
 * Peen-i/one. 
 
2io Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 go warn her, so she can hide till the shearers 
 have gone." 
 
 It was already very dark as he stumbled 
 over the rocky ground and turned west 
 along the bank of the arroyo. This was a 
 deep ravine plowed through the meadow by 
 the intermittent brook from the snows of 
 the Zuni mountains. In summer there was 
 no stream, but here and there were pools 
 enough for the thirsty sheep and cattle. 
 Now there had been rains, and a narrow rill 
 connected the brimming pools. He found 
 the white, peeled log which served as a foot 
 bridge from bank to bank, and started to 
 walk cautiously across it. Midway he 
 stopped suddenly with an audible chuckle, 
 turned, came back and shambled toward 
 the corrals. Something seemed to amuse 
 him mightily, for at every few steps he 
 paused to laugh softly. Camp-fires burned 
 all about the corral, and even far up the 
 rocky mesa, where the sheep were being 
 herded for the night; but Alonzo had eyes 
 for but one. Near an angle of the enclos 
 ure stood a stout post, and not far from its 
 foot was a bed of embers surrounded with 
 sooty kettles and frying pans. It was Tel- 
 ango s slaughter house and kitchen, where 
 that greasy gentleman turned twenty 
 
Candel^ria s Curse. 2 1 1 
 
 sheep a day into soups and joints for the 
 shearers. 
 
 Telang-o was at the moment absent, and 
 when he returned to his post a kettle of 
 mutton tallow that had been trying- out 
 over the embers was missing-. That should 
 have made a pretty row, for the cook was 
 a touchy autocrat; but, supper being- over, 
 Telango was so sleepy that he would scarce 
 have noticed it had his whole kitchen been 
 carried off. 
 
 " Well, are we ready ? " asked Pedro in a 
 low tone of his allies a little after 8 o clock. 
 Every one else was asleep, apparently. 
 The camp-fires had all died down and no one 
 was moving-. Pedro rose quietly and stole 
 off into the darkness, followed by Pepe and 
 Lipe. "Close behind me," he whispered, 
 "and with care, for if she hears us she. can 
 hide in the malpais, where no one could find 
 her." 
 
 "But perhaps she would not run," broke 
 out Lipe uneasily, as they neared the ar- 
 royo. "Since she is a witch she mig-ht 
 rather throw a spell on us." 
 
 " Quiet you the mouth, stupid I We have 
 only to take care that she does not hear us." 
 
 "But I have heard that they need not the 
 ears, for the evil spirits tell them." 
 
212 Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 4 Let the evil one tell her, if he will!" 
 growled Pedro. "I would like to see him 
 keep this from her," and he picked up a 
 jagged lava fragment over which he had 
 stumbled. "Be not sheep! Close behind 
 me, now." 
 
 Pedro stepped out upon the log" whose 
 white length stretching into the gloom 
 seemed to rest upon nothing. His teguas 
 made no noise upon the wood, and he was 
 midway across when suddenly there came 
 a stifled oath. His feet flew right and left 
 and he dropped astride the log with a vio 
 lence that shook the breath out of him, and 
 in the same instant began to slip to one 
 side. In vain he clutched at the log. It 
 gave no hold, and lurching over he dropped 
 twenty feet. There was a tremendous 
 splash; and then another and another. 
 Pepe and Lipe had followed their leader 
 downward without even stopping to sit 
 down first. 
 
 The shores here were steep and rocky, 
 cut deep in a lava flow millenniums older 
 than that whose jet black miles lay along 
 the pretty meadow. In the middle was a 
 long, deep pool wherein the few boys of 
 Alamitos were wont to swim in summer. 
 Just now it was not particularly attractive. 
 During the shearing several thousand sheep 
 
Candelaria s Curse. 213 
 
 were watered daily at the head of this pool 
 and at the shallower one above, and at such 
 times no one thought of bathing 1 in the odor 
 ous mess. 
 
 Any one listening might have heard for 
 some seconds after the splashes nothing 
 but a faint gurgle, as of bubbles breaking. 
 Then there were curious snorts and plash- 
 ings, as if that invisible black abyss had 
 suddenly become the home of a hippopota 
 mus family, and then a laborious thrashing 
 about. Presently there was a rattle of 
 pebbles, mingled with coughs and angry 
 mutterings, as if some one were trying to 
 scale the banks. 
 
 " Why didn t you come this side, stu 
 pids?" Pedro whispered across when he 
 had done choking and sputtering. "The 
 bruja lives over here not yonder. Va- 
 mos!" 
 
 u But man! We are not crazy! Seest 
 thou not that she has the power and so 
 easily has bewitched us? If we go further 
 we shall find worse." 
 
 "Four times fools! It was only that I 
 slipped, and you, being scared, fell also. 
 Come on!" 
 
 "Thanks," answered Pepe and Lipe in 
 a breath. "But even fools know better 
 than to defy the evil one." 
 
214 Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 "Come over or you answer to me!" 
 snorted Pedro, forgetting- his caution. 
 "Cowards that you are, I ll show you," 
 and he started back across the log- to get in 
 arg-uing- reach of the deserters. 
 
 But four steps from the bank his feet 
 again suddenly leaped out from under him 
 and the log smote him in the back with a 
 loud thump, and a wild splash flung a dirty 
 rain in the faces of his terrified companions. 
 
 "Uh, uh! " he gasped, coming to the sur 
 face at last. "Kff! Tchoo!" for he had 
 swallowed a most unsavory pint. 
 
 "Ah, ha-ha! " rang a weird, shrill laugh 
 from the southern bank. Pepe and Lipe 
 crossed themselves and took to their heels, 
 without thought of waiting for their leader. 
 It struck a chill through Pedro, too, as he 
 floundered to the shore and clambered up 
 the jagged rocks frantically, cutting his 
 hands and knees. But he hardly noticed 
 that all he could think of was the mocking 
 laugh. Candelaria s laugh ! After all, she 
 was too strong ! There was no use fighting 
 against these witches just see how easily 
 she had undone his strength and wit ! No 
 more witch hunts for him and he scram 
 bled up the bank in utter rout. Just then 
 a dark form reached out overhead. Pedro 
 
Candelaria s Curse. 2 1 5 
 
 did not see it; but in an instant came a 
 warm, suffocating avalanche which choked 
 his cry of terror and half blinded him. 
 
 "Murder ! " he managed to sputter at last. 
 " So-cor-r-r-ro I " and he fled to the camp like 
 one chased by wolves. 
 
 "So, thief! Shameless! It was thou that 
 stole my tallow, then!" roared Telango, 
 who had discovered his loss just now. " To 
 anoint that dirty head, eh? Then take 
 this ! " and with a stout cudgel he belabored 
 the luckless Pedro till the latter broke away 
 and fled into further darkness. No wonder 
 Telango had found him out his great 
 shock of hair and beard were matted in a 
 gray, greasy mask, like the runnings of a 
 cheap candle. 
 
 Pedro did not finish the shearing season. 
 Next morning he was missing from Alami- 
 tos, and a few days later news came that he 
 was in Cubero. His accomplices had no 
 explanations to offer for his disappearance 
 or for their wet clothing, and as for Alonzo, 
 he " told nothing to nobody." Only at times 
 he was observed to drop his shears and 
 double up as though he had a pain in his 
 stomach, while his face would become suspi 
 ciously red. Furthermore, he came care 
 lessly up to Telango at noon with : 
 
2i6 Candelaria s Curse. 
 
 "Oh, here s your lard bucket I picked 
 it up by the arroyo. And say if you want 
 to make candles, you d better go scrape the 
 foot-log. Somebody has greased the whole 
 middle of it! " 
 
 " What thing? " grumbled Telango. "Of 
 the witches, no doubt. And quizas the same 
 who anointed Pedro. " 
 
 " Quizas, " answered Alonzo solemnly, and 
 he walked off without cracking a smile. 
 
The Habit of the Fraile 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 
 L 
 
 THE end drew near of the longest siege 
 that was ever in any of the three 
 Americas. More than a year ago the red 
 field of Ayacucho had crowned the triumph 
 of the rebel colonies. The mother-nation 
 that found the New World, and tamed it and 
 gave it to her sons, no longer had sons there, 
 for the very last had disowned her. Mexi 
 co, the first great Spanish kingdom in Amer 
 ica, had turned republic; and so had the 
 neighbor provinces. South America had 
 followed suit; for the cry of "Independ 
 ence," premature as it was among these 
 peoples, then and still so unripe for self- 
 government, carried contagion, and Peru 
 itself, the gem of the conquest, the land of 
 riches and romance, had thrown off the 
 merciful "yoke" of home to stagger for 
 generations under the ten-fold worse yoke 
 of her own corrupt sons. Of all the Ameri 
 cas that had been Spain s by discovery, by 
 conquest and by settlement, there now re 
 mained to her on the continent only the 
 
 219 
 
220 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 space boxed by the four walls of Callao* 
 a space a mile and a half square. There 
 the red-yellow-and-red flag: still flaunted de 
 fiance to the victorious insurgents; for there 
 Rodil,f "the second Leonidas,"was making 1 
 the last heroic stand for Spain. 
 
 It was hopeless odds this fiery loyalist 
 against all rebel South America. There 
 was no possibility of reinforcements from 
 anywhere; no chance of retreat. Cooped 
 up in what was then the larg-est fort in the 
 New World, he saw the land fenced with 
 the flushed armies of Bolivar, J the bay 
 blocked by the allied fleets. For twenty- 
 one months he had repulsed their almost 
 daily attacks and outwitted their ceaseless 
 stratagems; and for twenty-one months, 
 too, had baffled the still more dangerous 
 foes within his walls. Of the two thousand 
 eight hundred men at his hand when the 
 siege began, March 1, 1824, over seven hun 
 dred had been killed and more than twice 
 as many had died of the pestilence. Of the 
 eight thousand citizens first within the fort 
 for all Callao was included by those huge 
 ramparts two thousand four hundred had 
 been sent out to avoid famine, and over five 
 
 * The proper pronunciation is Cal-jya7i-o. t Ro-deel 
 JThis is properly pronounced not Bollivar, but Bo- 
 Zee-var. 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 221 
 
 thousand had fallen by the plague. The 
 survivors had no heart left. Almost daily 
 some new plot to betray the fort was dis 
 covered, and almost daily the "iron gen 
 eral " gave a row of conspirators to the 
 musketeers. To war, disease and treach 
 ery, famine added its terrors. Horse meat 
 and rats were already delicacies; and only 
 yesterday, a noble invalid had given a plate 
 heaped up with gold for three lemons. 
 
 It was New Year s eve. That, down 
 here, twelve degrees below the equator, 
 meant high summer. All day long the tropic 
 heat had beaten mercilessly upon Callao, 
 and now the wan defenders lay sprawled 
 along the ramparts beside their guns, drink 
 ing the grateful dusk. Here and there 
 sounded the uneven tramp of the patrol 
 down the cobble-paved streets, and their 
 sharp challenge, "Alto! Quien vive?" to 
 every one they met. It rang out now, and 
 the soldiers crossed their muskets before a 
 tall, gray-robed figure. 
 
 "It is I, my children," was the quiet 
 answer. " Delay me not, for I go to the 
 sick." 
 
 "Pass, father," said the sargento, and 
 all lifted their caps, stepping from the 
 narrow sidewalk to make room for the 
 priest. 
 
222 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 "But what is this?" cried the officer, 
 suddenly thrusting- out his long- arm and 
 clutching- something- which was about to 
 fly right between them. It was a thin, pale 
 girl of ten, hooded in the black manta of 
 her people. 
 
 " Que es esto?" repeated the sargento 
 more gently. "Dost thou not know the 
 orders that none shall move upon the street 
 after dark, since so many drop letters over 
 the walls to the rebels? Get thee in, for 
 even children are not exempt," and he 
 pushed her back into the doorway from 
 which she had just burst. 
 
 But the child made no motion to obey. 
 "The padre!" she panted. "The padre! 
 For my brother is very sick." 
 
 " Si,pues? Well, go thou and catch the 
 fraile, then. But much eye that thou come 
 not near the walls." And the kindly old 
 Spaniard led his men off down the street. 
 
 By this time the priest had turned the 
 corner; and when the child came flying- to 
 that street, lo! he was far ahead. But she 
 kept running- breathlessly and at last, where 
 the dark bulk of the castle of San Felipe 
 overhung them, she plucked the gray robe 
 from behind. Her bare feet had drawn no 
 noise from the stones, and the priest started 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 223 
 
 violently, choking- back what sounded like 
 the beginning- of a cry. 
 
 He wheeled sharply about with a stern 
 "What is this?" but his voice was 
 pinched. 
 
 "My brother very sick padre! Please, 
 your grace, come!" she panted. 
 
 "To the devils with your brother!" he 
 growled, flinging- her off. " Vdyatel" and 
 he was gone before the dumbfounded child 
 could speak again. She stood a moment 
 looking stupidly after him, and then, sob 
 bing, limped wearily homeward. 
 
 II. 
 
 The house, like most of Callao in those 
 ill days, was little better than a wreck 
 after twenty-one months of the rebel can 
 nonading. The dark stairway teetered and 
 groaned dismally as she scrambled up, and 
 overhead the Southern Cross blinked hazily 
 at her through a tattered frame the in 
 surgent shells had left little of the flimsy 
 roofs of the city where it never rains. 
 Long, ragged strips of bamboo lathing 
 dangled here and there, and at her childish 
 tread dribbles of the gravel covering came 
 pattering about her like uncanny footfalls. 
 She was trembling all over when she pushed 
 open a broken door and entered the room, 
 
224 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 the rude Moorish balcony of which over 
 hung- the street. There was a hole in the 
 roof here, too, and the doors of the balcony 
 had been splintered by a cannon ball. A 
 twisted rag- flared smokily in an iron plate 
 of grease on a broken chair, and where the 
 vagrant shadows began to stand their 
 ground against its feeble rays, some one 
 was bending- over a tattered mattress upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " No hay cuidado" said a strange voice 
 as she stopped short, in alarm. " The sar- 
 gento bade me bring a cup of caldo for thy 
 brother, seeing- thee so much a woman. 
 For now that there is nothing- to eat, he 
 said, perhaps that would be the best medi 
 cine." 
 
 "God pay you!" cried the child ner 
 vously. * And my brother ? 
 
 " He drank the broth as one greedy, and 
 in a moment fell asleep. How many days 
 makes it that he is sick?" 
 
 "Two, senor. Since four days there was 
 nothing- to eat but two crusts of bread, and 
 those he made me eat." 
 
 " Pobrecito I He has no more than 
 hunger. To-morrow I will bring another 
 caldo for even broth of horse gives 
 strength that ye may not starve. But 
 have ye no fathers?" 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 225 
 
 " Papa fell in San Felipe ; and our mother 
 was sent from the city with many. But us 
 she hid in the house, saying- that the enemy 
 had no mercy even to the weak. And so it 
 was; for the women that tried to pass to 
 Lima the insurjentes fired upon. And she 
 never came back." 
 
 "Dog-s of rebels! But now I g-o, little 
 one. Have heart, for I will look to you. 
 Hdstaluego." 
 
 When he was g-one the child crouched 
 down by her brother and slipped her trem 
 bling- hand into his. The shadows were so 
 crawly ! They seemed to draw back and 
 then come stealing- at her. And it was so 
 still only the hail of the sentries, breaking 
 across such a silence as if they stood g-uard 
 over a city of the dead. 
 
 " Que hay, little sister?" said the boy, 
 starting- up wide awake with the sudden 
 ness of those that are fevered. "The 
 father ? Couldst not find one ? But it is all 
 the same, for God sent us a friend with 
 food." 
 
 "And he comes to-morrow also," she 
 added eag-erly. Then she told how she had 
 followed the priest, but he had shaken her 
 off with roug-h words. 
 
226 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 "a? How is that? For the fathers 
 do not so. And how is it thou followedst 
 him even to the Castillo? " 
 
 " Pues> for that he went very fast and I 
 could not catch him. He was at the corner 
 even when the sargento let me pass; but 
 when I came running- there he was almost 
 at the next cuadra, as if he too had run." 
 
 Vicente suddenly sat up on the squalid 
 mattress. The smoky wick flung deep 
 shadows in his hollow cheeks, and he looked 
 so pale and wild that Lina almost cried out 
 at him. 
 
 "I tell thee, manita," he whispered earn 
 estly, * I believe not in that priest 1 Running 
 so, and so rough to thee ! And thou sayest 
 that at touch of thy hand to his robe he 
 started and was to call out? There is a 
 danger, I tell thee ! " he repeated vehem 
 ently, striking his thin fist upon the floor 
 till the impish shadows danced again. 
 " All is crooked now, when they say the very 
 captains wait to sell our general. And if th e 
 priests be traitors too " 
 
 " But what to do ? " asked the girl, in awe 
 of this fierce young brother. 
 
 " Ay ! What to do ? For we know noth 
 ing. But something there zs, my heart tells 
 me. OyezI Wouldst thou know the padre 
 again, seeing him ? " 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 227 
 
 " Como no? For it was near thefarol, 
 and I saw under the hood his eyes, how 
 shining they were." 
 
 "And his voice, too no? Come, then, 
 and we will see who is this father that 
 curses his children ! " And the boy rose 
 eagerly, though his legs shook under him. 
 
 " But how canst thou go out, hermano, be 
 ing so sick?" 
 
 "No hay cuidado. For now it is for our 
 king against the rebels, and strength I shall 
 have for that. The caldo also gives me new 
 life. Vamos!" 
 
 III. 
 
 Weak as he was, he drew her down the 
 tottering stairs and into the dark street; 
 and there they stood a moment, not 
 knowing whither to turn. " Claro ! " ex 
 claimed Vicente, "we will follow as he went 
 perchance we may meet him returning." 
 
 But at the very corner some one turning 
 in hastily from the next street stumbled 
 fairly over them; and Vicente and Linaand 
 the stranger went down in a heap. 
 
 "Little animals!" snarled an angry 
 voice. "Are you blind? For a so-little I 
 would break your bones. Eh ? He is who ? 
 he hissed, catching them by the arms 
 for he had heard Lina s excited whisper, 
 
228 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 "She says you are the priest that would 
 not go to her sick brother," answered Vi 
 cente in a steady voice, " and I believe it, for 
 you are rough to the weak. But we will find 
 a padre who is not so." 
 
 " Mdrchanse, brats!" said the stranger 
 in a tone of relief. "But," he added, turn 
 ing and shaking his finger at them, "no more 
 running after me, or I throw you over the 
 wall." 
 
 "Have no care, senor padre," said Vi 
 cente, with sarcastic politeness ; and taking 
 Lina by the hand he hurried around the 
 corner. In a moment he turned his h ead and 
 caught a glimpse of some dark object peer 
 ing past the wall. ".$/" he whispered, 
 squeezing the slender fingers, and a few rods 
 farther on drew Lina into a recess of the 
 wall. He was trembling all over. 
 
 "Esl" he repeated. "Canst thou not see 
 that he is no fraile, though he wears the 
 habit ? It is the voice of a soldier and not of 
 the church. And here ! This fell to my 
 very hand when we all went to the ground 
 together" and he held up a crumpled 
 paper. "But first it is to see whither goes 
 this father of rebels. Come so far as the 
 house and there wait me, for it is better 
 that I go alone." 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 229 
 
 "But, Vicente I I m afraid of the 
 dulndes I " 
 
 " Epa ! Fear not, sisterling, for the gob 
 lins touch not those that are true. Re 
 member, it is for Spain ! " And pushing- 
 her gently inside their own doorway, and 
 stooping- to kiss her, he hurried down the 
 street. 
 
 Lina dared not climb the noisy stairs to 
 the deserted rooms. She crouched in the 
 hall, shivering-, drawing- the manta about 
 her shoulders as if with cold, but shutting- 
 her teeth bravely. The shuffle of Vicente s 
 broken shoes had already died away ; and 
 it seemed as if the whole world had slipped 
 past with him. Ag^es and ag-es she waited, 
 till she was ready to scream with fear; 
 and then she sprang- nervously to the door 
 at a sound in the street. It was only a 
 patrol shambling- over the crazy cobble 
 stones, but as it drew nig-h she was seized 
 with a sudden access of fear. Between 
 them stumbled Vicente, a heavy hand on 
 either shoulder. 
 
 " Let him g-o ! " she cried, rushing- upon 
 the soldiers as if to strike them down. "He 
 is my little brother, and has done nothing-. 
 Only we found the " 
 
 " Cdllete, Lina ! " spoke up Vicente 
 sharply. "If only the senor official will be 
 
230 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 so good as to take her with me to the gen 
 eral for she is quite alone, senor." 
 
 "It is well come on, little Amazon !" said 
 the officer, from whom war and starvation 
 had not dried up all Andalusian humor. 
 " Snails ! But I thought she was to capture 
 us! March I" 
 
 IV. 
 
 General Rodil pushed back his chair from 
 the table, and his grave face took on a puz 
 zled look as the officer and his odd prison 
 ers were ushered into the room. " The gen 
 eral who never sleeps," they called him for 
 at whatever hour of day or night, he was 
 always appearing suddenly here, there, 
 everywhere. Well masked was the faint 
 heart into whose depths those gray eyes 
 did not bore; tiny indeed the slackness 
 that escaped them. Well might the ignor 
 ant invest him with a superstitious terror 
 this man who was really the garrison of 
 Callao. 
 
 " Que cosa ? " he demanded in a low, clear 
 voice. 
 
 " Pues, senor generdl" said the officer, 
 still standing at " salute." " This boy we 
 found in the Street of the Pelicans, as if 
 waiting for some one. And when we 
 searched him this was in his shirt." 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 231 
 
 Rodil uncrumpled the paper and bent to 
 read it by the flickering- candle. Suddenly 
 his haggard face turned even paler, and 
 then a dark flush rose as he sprang- to 
 his feet and took two steps forward. As 
 suddenly he stopped, and threw at the 
 children a glance that seemed fairly to 
 burn them. 
 
 " Are there none but traitors? " he cried, 
 with a choke. " Even to the babies I And 
 now, my Ponce de Leon!" for the smug-- 
 gled note read : 
 
 " Todo listo. No mas se espera al coman- 
 dante rubio. Arregla todo de San Rafael" 
 
 [All ready. Only waiting the blonde 
 commander. Fix everything in the castle 
 of San Rafael.] 
 
 The "blonde commander " could be none 
 other than Rodil s dear friend and trusted 
 officer, in charge of one of the twin castles 
 a man whom he had " made " in rank and 
 fortune. The general s face seemed of stone 
 as he demanded: 
 
 " Boy ! From where is this letter? " 
 
 " Vuesencia, I picked it up from a fraile 
 who fell over us in the street; and because 
 he had been rough to my little sister, I fol 
 lowed to see where he would go." 
 
 " Carefully ! For when it is between the 
 king s honor and traitors, even youth counts 
 
232 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 not! What should a fraile be doing- with 
 letters of the insurgents? " 
 
 "For that, I think he was no fraile," an 
 swered Vicente sturdily, holding his head 
 erect, though his knees wavered; and he 
 told all the happenings of the evening, 
 while Lina nodded an earnest corrobora- 
 tion. Before he was done, something of 
 the hardness had faded from Rodil s face. 
 
 " Your ctienta runs well, * he said at last. 
 " Give me proof and I will fill your hat with 
 gold. But if not if you are old enough to 
 be a traitor, you are old enough to die one ! " 
 
 Vicente s ragged shoulders squared still 
 straighter. " When I ask you for money, 
 senor general! " he replied proudly. " We 
 are of Spain, and for that I do it. He that 
 made as priest went not to the convento, 
 but into the house 74,Street of the Viceroy." 
 
 " Hola I Senor teniente, take twenty men 
 in the instant and round-up that house, 
 bringing hither all that are in it ; and that 
 everything be searched. And send the 
 teniente Ochoa with another file to bring 
 hither prisoner the Comandante Ponce de 
 Leon. Corriendo ! " 
 
 For twenty minutes u the sleepless gen 
 eral " walked the room sometimes ap 
 parently unconscious of the children, and 
 suddenly flinging at them some question, 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 233 
 
 sharp and searching as a javelin. Then 
 there were reluctant feet upon the stairs. 
 
 "It has to report, yourExcellency," said 
 Lieutenant Ochoa, "that the Senor Coman- 
 dante Ponce de Leon is not to be found. 
 Since the first dusk no one has seen him." 
 
 Rodil struck his forehead ; but before he 
 seemed able to command his voice, there 
 was another commotion outside, and a group 
 of officers bustled into the room. 
 
 " What is this, mi general? " cried one of 
 them angrily. " Here we are dragged from 
 the house like criminals I What means this 
 rat-catcher of a lieutenant?" 
 
 "Little by little, gentlemen minel" an 
 swered Rodil in a suspiciously quiet tone. 
 " You will excuse the molestation for my 
 sake, since I ordered it. And now, I beg 
 you, have the goodness to tell me of a fraile 
 who entered your house half an hour ago." 
 
 "Fraile, senor general? No priest has 
 entered the house," answered the first 
 speaker, sharply. He was a tall, handsome 
 officer, upon whom even the shabbiness of a 
 uniform that had seen twenty-one months 
 fighting sat becomingly. "I think your 
 Excellency might have asked the question 
 with less violence to us." 
 
 "Ill it fits me to show discourtesy to 
 such loyal gentlemen," Rodil replied, with 
 
234 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 an added dryness. " And I am glad to learn 
 that no priest has been among- you for I 
 fancied, my Senor Captain Baca, that he 
 might be converting you to the brother 
 hood. You would half pass for a fraile 
 yourself, now that I see " and in spite of 
 himself the general s voice rose ever so 
 little " the moustache which was the pride 
 of the company is shorn off since midday." 
 
 " Pues your Excellency," stammered 
 the tall captain. "For the heat and 
 and since time hangs heavily on our 
 hands, I shaved for a joke." 
 
 "Well edged is thy humor, captain 
 mine I " The ironic respect had given 
 place to the contemptuous tu. " Ojala we 
 had earlier guessed thy wit, to ease the 
 weariness of the siege. Tell me, boy is 
 this thy fraile?" The question came like 
 a bullet. 
 
 "I know not, Excellency," said Vicente, 
 hesitatingly. " Of that size he was, but his 
 face I saw not well." 
 
 "But it is his voice!" cried Lina impetu 
 ously. "And had he the hood, I would 
 know if it is his face for the capucho 
 covered him well." 
 
 "Little animals 1" growled the captain, 
 starting as if to spring at them. But then, 
 commanding himself, he said sullenly: "Un- 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 235 
 
 til what will your Excellency carry this 
 farce? Am I to be burlado by lying- brats 
 of the street? With these gentlemen I 
 have passed the time since I came off duty." 
 
 "It is true, seiior general," declared the 
 others, who had nervously watched their 
 spokesman, the ranking 1 officer among- them. 
 " We have all been tog-ether since " 
 
 "Alto!" interrupted Rodil sternly. "You 
 must bring- me better witnesses than your 
 tong-ues. For by my faith, I would see this 
 joke of the moustache played throug-h. Sar- 
 gento, search this captain of the wits." 
 
 "For pity, mi general! Shame me not 
 thus!" And the officer fell on his knees. 
 
 For answer, Rodil only stretched his 
 lean finger grimly. The serg-eant, awk 
 ward at disrespectful approach to his su 
 perior, laid his hand upon the arm of the 
 risen captain, and in another moment lay 
 sprawling- upon the floor. Baca was a young 
 and muscular man; and almost in the same 
 motion with the blow he sprang- at the win 
 dow. 
 
 The dumbfounded privates had no time 
 to reach him ; but Vicente, in a flash of rage, 
 flung- himself at his legs, and the tall officer 
 crashed upon the floor. Before he could 
 rise a dozen soldiers were upon him, and 
 
236 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 Rodil, his slender sword quivering at half- 
 arm, faced the four other officers. 
 
 "There is nothing- in his pockets, Excel 
 lency," announced the sergeant. 
 
 "Claro I For he who changes his face so 
 soon can as well change his clothing-. In 
 his shoes, then. * 
 
 There was a renewed scuffle; but in a 
 moment a cry of exultation and the ser 
 g-eant drag-g-ed a thin, soiled paper from 
 Baca s stocking-. 
 
 "Still given to jests, capitan mio that 
 you walk on the mines which are to blow 
 the rebels up at the next assault. It is a 
 clever diagram, and Salom would have paid 
 thee well for it, I warrant. Hola I " 
 
 For the door let in four soldiers and their 
 petty officer; and over the arm of the latter 
 hung the long gray-brown habit of a Fran 
 ciscan friar. 
 
 "It was between the mattresses of the 
 seiior capitan Baca," announced the ser 
 geant. "And as for these little ones, I am 
 their witness for to my patrol passed first 
 a tall fraile, and soon came running this 
 womanling after him for her brother, who 
 was very sick." 
 
 "And the boy is he to whom I carried a 
 cup of broth and I found him well fe 
 vered, "spoke up one of the soldiers, scared 
 
The Habit of the Fraile. 237 
 
 at his own thick voice before the grim gen 
 eral. 
 
 "It is enough," interrupted Rodil. "I 
 give thanks to God that there are patriots 
 yet and eyes in them, too. These chil 
 dren stay with me. For the Senor Captain 
 Baca, and for these gentlemen who were 
 with him all the time, " he continued with 
 grim terseness, "sunrise against the wall 
 of San Felipe. Until then, your heads an 
 swer for theirs! " 
 
 That is all there is to tell of the habit of 
 the fraile except that it served for a 
 shroud to the traitor who had masqueraded 
 in it. 
 
 But already was the beginning of the end. 
 The desertion of the Comandante Ponce de 
 Leon, who had dropped over the wall and 
 fled to the enemy, gave to the insurgents 
 plans and information of fatal importance. 
 Then Riera, the other comandante, turned 
 traitor too, and delivered to the foe the 
 castle of San Rafael. 
 
 Resistance was no longer possible, even 
 to " the Spartan of Peru." On the llth of 
 January he entered into correspondence 
 which ended with the honorable and advan 
 tageous capitulation of Callao, January 23, 
 1826. Of the original 2,800 soldiers only 
 
238 The Habit of the Fraile. 
 
 three hundred and seventy-six remained, 
 and a scant seven hundred citizens of all 
 the former thousands. There was little 
 left save glory but of that so proud a 
 share as was earned by no other man of 
 either side in the war of the colonial re 
 bellion. For that matter, history has few 
 pages like the resistance of Spain s last fort 
 in America. 
 
 When Rodil, in full uniform, boarded the 
 English frigate "Briton" to sail away to 
 the long years and high honors that awaited 
 him in Spain, he carried with the banners 
 of his favorite regiments a boy and girl 
 who seemed less embarrassed by their fine 
 new dress than by the attention which 
 everywhere greeted " the little orphans of 
 Callao." 
 
The Great Magician 
 
The Great Magician. 
 
 REALLY know one? Well, I should 
 say so better than I know any one 
 else alive. No, it was not Herrmann, nor 
 Signer Blitz before him; though each in 
 turn seemed to my young eyes the most 
 marvelous conjurer possible, and the latter 
 remained for years a haunting wonder. But 
 I was already getting acquainted with a 
 magician to whom both of these put to 
 gether were a fool. For that matter, we 
 had always been neighbors ; but for years 
 I never really knew him well, nor was even 
 aware that he was in the conjuring business 
 at all. Had we boys realized that we were 
 growing up next door to the greatest living 
 prestidigitator, he doubtless would have 
 got a little more attention from us; but he 
 was very quiet, and not at all given to 
 "showing off;" and, to tell the truth, we 
 left him pretty much to himself. Even in 
 our games he was hardly ever asked to take 
 part; though I can see now where he could 
 
 241 
 
242 The Great Magician. 
 
 have given us a good many points on three- 
 old-cat and follow-my-leader, or any of our 
 other sports. It makes one feel cheap to 
 find that one has been living- so long- next 
 door to such a genius without ever getting 
 on intimate terms with him, or fairly dis 
 covering who he is. It was not his fault, 
 either, for there was never anything stuck 
 up about him, despite his wonderful gifts. 
 With some people, it is true, he never was 
 known to associate; but that was merely 
 because he did not push himself. To any 
 one who gave him to understand that his 
 company was agreeable he was always cor 
 dial. That I call downright obliging in one 
 who has got so high up in the world for 
 he is known and respected everywhere, and 
 has been invited to appear before kings and 
 queens when even their prime ministers 
 were shut out. You see, he has been a 
 great traveler. Perhaps there is not a 
 place in the whole world that he does not 
 know. But, then, it s easy to travel when 
 one has plenty of means and leisure, and a 
 free pass everywhere. Possibly he would 
 not get around quite so much if he had to 
 pay fare. 
 
 Though it took us so long to get ac 
 quainted, we rather " cottoned to " one an 
 other after the ice was broken, and for the 
 
The Great Magician. 243 
 
 last twenty years have been great chums. 
 In that time we have knocked about the 
 world a good bit tog-ether. Really, I mean, 
 not like our first travel. In the younger 
 days he used to drop in on me every now 
 and then with a serious air, and remark: 
 
 4 Say, want to go to Shanghai this even 
 ing? Well, shut your eyes. Presto ! 
 change ! here we are I Now, come around, 
 and we 11 see the sights." 
 
 And there we were in Shanghai, using 
 our eyes and holding our noses. But all 
 that, you understand, was one of his sleight- 
 of-hand tricks. It was very pleasant and 
 inexpensive travel, and I learned a good 
 deal from it; but the grind of it was that I 
 could not bring back any of the wonderful 
 things we saw in the bazars. I M just about 
 as soon not travel as to be unable to col 
 lect trophies from the country I am visit 
 ing. It was really not his fault, of course. 
 He is the most accommodating fellow in the 
 world ; but even jugglery has its limits ; 
 and after a friend has given you a trip to 
 any part of the world you choose, and 
 brought you back safe and sound, and paid 
 all your expenses out of his own pocket, 
 no well bred guest could have the face to 
 ask him to bring also a cargo of all sorts of 
 truck. When I used to groan at coming 
 
244 The Great Magician. 
 
 away empty-handed, he would say frankly: 
 "Sorry my boy, but it really can t be 
 helped. I m glad to take you anywhere, 
 and make it as pleasant for you as I can; 
 but my pass is for passengers only, and the 
 baggage business is strictly prohibited. It 
 is too bulky; and then think what trouble 
 I should get into with the customs officers 
 if we went to bringing in such cargoes out 
 side the regular channels." 
 
 In later years we have pretty thoroughly 
 made up for that aggravation ; for nowa 
 days I am the host, and wouldn t think of 
 starting on a journey without inviting him 
 to come along ; and we bring back all sorts 
 of interesting plunder from everywhere, 
 until the house we occupy together looks 
 more like a museum than anything else. 
 He himself admits that it s a good deal 
 ahead of the old way ; but even the delight 
 of collecting and no boy or man half 
 knows what life is until he "collects" some 
 thing, and earnestly even that pleasure 
 would not compensate me for the loss of 
 his company. He is the very best travel 
 ing companion I ever found ; so ready to do 
 whatever you wish, so full of information, 
 so helpful in emergencies of any sort. 
 Some people who have traveled with him 
 have tried to tell me that he cowardly de* 
 
The Great Magician. 245 
 
 serted them in time of danger ; but there 
 must be two sides to this story, for I have 
 seen him in a great many tight pinches, and 
 he was clear-headed and quick as a wink to 
 do the right thing-. To tell the truth, he 
 has saved my life a score of times, all by 
 his dexterity ; so you may be sure that 
 when people talk of his running- away and 
 leaving them in the lurch, I resent the impu 
 tation, and conclude they were the ones 
 really to blame. In knocking about the 
 frontiers I have found a good many men, of 
 several different colors, who make you feel, 
 "Well, if it came to a fight for life, with my 
 back against a rock, that would be a good 
 fellow to have beside me." But among all 
 those brave men all of whom I admire, 
 and some of whom I love I would rather 
 have him by me, in a pinch, than any other 
 one. 
 
 You must not think from this that my 
 friend is a desperado, or a professional 
 fighter, or anything of the sort. On the 
 contrary, his disposition is as peaceful as 
 his habits are quiet, and he hates any sort 
 of a row. It is only in the crises which any 
 man may meet, and every man must some 
 times meet who travels outside the beaten 
 tracks, when it is necessary and manful to 
 fight, that he suddenly turns combative and 
 
246 The Great Magician. 
 
 pitches in. Ordinarily, he is a plain, prac 
 tical business man, who, for his own part, 
 might have retired long- ago, but remains 
 in the firm for the sake of the junior part 
 ners. He works harder than any of them 
 and then, when business hours are over, 
 diverts himself and his friends by little ex 
 hibitions of his matchless skill as a con 
 jurer. At such times he likes to forg-et 
 work and worry altogether, and to be jolly 
 and free of care and full of pranks as a boy. 
 I have seen people so inconsiderate as to 
 insist on boring- him by u talking- shop " out 
 of office hours, but he always resents it. 
 He is rather nervous and very impression 
 able, apt to fall into the mood of those who 
 are with him; and he sometimes g-ets so 
 tired and confused as to show very little of 
 his usual wisdom. Indeed, I have seen him, 
 when very weary, make a flat failure of 
 some trick at magic, which ordinarily he 
 could do with astounding- cleverness. 
 
 Undoubtedly his greatest claim to public 
 respect is in the quiet, every-day wisdom 
 of his practical career ; but his g-if ts as a 
 magician are so brilliant and so fascinating- 
 that one naturally thinks of them first. 
 And, in spite of his long- business training-, 
 there isn t a mercenary streak in him. 
 Some of his most wonderful performances 
 
The Great Magician. 247 
 
 are given gratis, and he even seems to pre 
 fer an audience of one to what the managers 
 would call "a paying house." 
 
 Eh? You would like to know what he 
 can do that is so much bigger than the tricks 
 of the wizards that get their $200 a night? 
 Well, if I were to tell you all I ve seen him 
 do, we wouldn t be done this side of 1900; 
 but here are some few things, and if you do 
 not admit that Herrmann and all the rest 
 are mere greenhorns to him, I 11 agree 
 never to go near another of his perform 
 ances. 
 
 I never knew him to fry eggs in a stove 
 pipe hat, nor to pick twenty-dollar gold 
 pieces out of people s eyes, nor to chop off 
 a man s head and then stick it on again, nor 
 any of those threadbare sensations, though 
 he sometimes practices simple illusions like 
 making things appear where they are not, 
 or causing them to seem not to be where 
 you really know they are. But those are 
 trifles, just to keep his hand in; his claim 
 as champion conjurer of the world rests on 
 very different accomplishments. For in 
 stance, one of his favorite tricks is to 
 take a careless fly-away boy and turn him 
 into a strong, wise man turn him "for 
 keeps," too. I Ve seen him do that a hun 
 dred times, and you will agree that that is 
 
248 The Great Magician. 
 
 a very useful trick, as well as a very diffi 
 cult one. When one sees how smoothly he 
 does it, one is doubly sorry that he doesn t 
 get all the boys up on the stage and experi 
 ment on them; but, of course, a complete 
 change of personality is a serious thing, 
 and he would not be justified in taking- any 
 such liberties without the full consent of 
 the subject. 
 
 An almost equally remarkable trick, and 
 one he is equally fond of, is to take a thor 
 oughly homely girl and put a brand-new 
 face on her. Not exactly a beautiful face, 
 for he says that is none of his business, but 
 a face that every one likes to look at. Yet 
 I know girls so foolish as to decline treat 
 ment by this great specialist, and to think 
 cosmetics better. 
 
 My friend s hobby for experimenting 
 upon young people, and his innate fondness 
 for them, as shown by his patience with their 
 frequently slighting treatment of him, made 
 me remark one evening: " How is it you 
 are so good-natured with these rattleheads ? 
 Nobody else would have the patience. Even 
 when a fellow has snubbed you in the most 
 discourteous way you seem to bear no 
 grudge, but to be always ready to do him a 
 good turn if there is a chance." 
 
 " Well," said my friend, slowly, dropping 
 
The Great Magician. 249 
 
 a new sleight-of-hand he was practicing-, 
 "you see, I was once young- and a fool my 
 self, and had to grow and develop ; and the 
 process was so tedious that I m not apt to 
 forget. And, somehow, I feel as if I should 
 always keep young in spite of the years. 
 There is always something to interest me, 
 and that keeps me from growing old." 
 
 "By the way," I put in, "when did you 
 begin conjuring? Such marvelous profi 
 ciency as yours can have been attained only 
 by lifelong practice. Did you take it up 
 deliberately, or drift into it by chance?" 
 
 My friend gazed soberly for a moment at 
 the crackling cedar sticks in my adobe fire 
 place he had come out to visit me in New 
 Mexico before replying. 
 
 "Do you know, this reminds me very 
 strongly of my own early life. These In 
 dians who are your neighbors, this simple 
 way of life, recall old times. You might 
 not believe it, but my own folks were nomad 
 savages, and my infancy was passed among 
 scenes compared to which your surround 
 ings here are highly civilized. Yes, I don t 
 wonder you are astonished ; in sober earn 
 est, you cannot imagine how brutal and 
 squalid were the surroundings. Nothing to 
 wear, very little to eat, and that little al 
 ways raw; in fact, not one of the conven- 
 
250 The Great Magician. 
 
 iences which even an Indian now deems 
 necessary to his existence. Why, we hadn t 
 even a way to warm ourselves ; and as for 
 houses or clothing-, they were quite un 
 known. Education? Not a bit more than 
 the monkeys have. I was nearly a grown 
 man before I learned to read and write." 
 
 "Why, you have risen even further than 
 from rail splitter to president ! " 
 
 " Ah, Lincoln g-ot ashig-h as man cang-et. 
 We were very dear friends, and I believe I 
 helped him materially in the great crises 
 throug-h which he was called upon to lead 
 the nation. At any rate, he always con 
 sulted me before taking- any important 
 step." 
 
 Now in any one else, this would have 
 seemed the end of impudence and mendac 
 ity, if not half blasphemy. But when my 
 friend the magician said it, I knew it must 
 be true. He went on in his quiet way: 
 
 "But we were talking- of my youth. You 
 asked how and when I first took up conjur 
 ing-. To tell the truth, I can hardly remem 
 ber. I was certainly very young-, and the 
 discovery of my powers was quite acci 
 dental. One of my first tricks was very 
 simple; but perhaps it was most important 
 of all. It lifted my people from a lower 
 plane than any savag-e now occupies, to high 
 
The Great Magician. 251 
 
 civilization. Every person every day uses 
 that little invention of mine and 99 per 
 cent of them without stopping- to thank the 
 inventor. By simply taking- two sticks and 
 rubbing- them together this way I pro 
 duced a substance which had never been 
 seen on earth before, but which is now the 
 first absolute necessity in every household. 
 If it were abolished, the world s progress 
 would stop. It s a very curious substance. 
 The materials of which it is composed are 
 invisible and intangible ; but it can be seen 
 further and felt more than anything- else in 
 the world. You can t touch it; and yet, 
 here, if you could not sometimes almost 
 touch it you would perish. You have to 
 feed it as carefully as you would a horse, and 
 much of tener ; and, unlike any other laborer 
 I know of, it will never work between meals. 
 But while it eats, it will work like mad. 
 Another queer thing- about it is that it would 
 live forever if you fed it forever; but it dies 
 as soon as it stops eating-. But you can 
 bring- it to life again in a minute, strong- and 
 active as ever. It is terribly mischievous, 
 too; if you give it proper attention, it cuts 
 upno pranks; but if you are careless, itsome- 
 times sneaks off and does more damag-e in 
 one short romp than a hundred men could 
 replace by a lifetime s earning-s. Then it s 
 
252 The Great Magician. 
 
 curious what a hatred it has for a still com 
 moner substance which I didtft invent. 
 Bring- the two together and there is a noisy 
 and desperate fight, and one or other of the 
 combatants is annihilated. Yet if you place 
 them just near enough to each other, but 
 so confined that they cannot grapple, they 
 work together with an energy which I 
 saw move a hundred buildings once 
 each building over thirty feet long. Ah, 
 you wonder more at some of my other 
 tricks, probably because you are less famil 
 iar with them; but I tell you that is just 
 about the biggest single thing I ever did. 
 There would have been neither geography 
 nor history; we should never have heard of 
 Caesar or Napoleon or Washington or much 
 of anybody else, if I hadn t stumbled on 
 that little secret of rubbing the sticks, while 
 I was still what you might well call a green, 
 awkward boy." 
 
 "Yes," I admitted, "I guess, after all, 
 your fire trick is about the greatest thing 
 of all though I hadn t just looked at it in 
 that light before. Really, about every sin 
 gle thing we depend on depends on that. 
 And that was about your first turn in 
 magic?" 
 
 " Ye-es, perhaps the first important one. 
 It was a great start, too, for after that I ad- 
 
The Great Magician. 253 
 
 vanced pretty rapidly in proficiency, until I 
 became, as you know, able to do pretty 
 nearly whatever I try." 
 
 That is not putting- it too strongly he 
 can do almost anything- he seriously turns 
 his hand to. After what I have seen him 
 accomplish, there are few things I would 
 deem it hopeless for him to attempt. Our 
 stage magicians are at their wits end to 
 devise some new trick; but he invents a 
 thousand a day the poorest more wonder 
 ful than their masterpiece. Now there s 
 his own life preserver, for instance a ridi 
 culous little affair in something like thirty 
 pieces; the simplest thing, yet of almost 
 infinite uses. It is, among many other re 
 markable qualities, the greatest preserva 
 tive known. An article so ephemeral that 
 a breath of air would whisk it away, so 
 perishable that not all the Arctic ice could 
 save it, can by this means be kept a thou 
 sand years aye, or ten thousand, for that 
 matter as good as new. Yes, a man s 
 very speech may become visible and eter 
 nal all because my friend once did a little 
 conjuring for a Greek, who raised most re 
 markable harvests from seed our florists 
 never handle. I don t know just where it 
 does come from nowadays for we still see 
 that sort of crop once in a while. Perhaps 
 
254 - The Great Magician. 
 
 Cadmus himself was a politician, and the 
 dragon s teeth are an heirloom in the family. 
 
 Those early conjurings are not more 
 astounding- than the new ones he is con 
 stantly devising 1 . Nowadays he can sit 
 down in Washington or London or Berlin, 
 and, by a few taps on a table, turn a million 
 men into a machine for destruction. He 
 will take your ear in New York and hold it 
 to the lips of your friend in Chicago, and 
 then make it as easy for the Chicagoan to 
 hear what you say in reply. Your voice, 
 which, so far as any ability of yours goes, is 
 lost forever as soon as spilled, he can bottle 
 up so perfectly that your great-grandchil 
 dren s great-grandchildren shall listen to 
 what you said two hundred years before 
 they were born, and hear it in your very 
 tones. You see, my friend is making life a 
 good deal larger, and death a good deal 
 smaller and he is not done yet! 
 
 But I should be. There is simply no use 
 trying to enumerate his magic, for it has no 
 end. Besides, you can get a much better 
 notion of his powers by watching him than 
 thus at second hand from me. But how are 
 you going to find him, when he doesn t ad 
 vertise? Why, of course! How stupid of 
 me to have forgotten to tell you that his 
 name is Thought. 
 
The Silver Omelet 
 
THE PATIO PROCESS AT GUANAJUATO 
 
The Silver Omelet. 
 
 F~\ OUBTLESS you should not be blamed 
 J _ ) for a sniff of incredulity when I come 
 to mention the size of it, though you cer 
 tainly have not made as many omelets as I 
 did in the years of keeping- house on the 
 frontier " all by my lonesome," and though 
 you probably could not turn one now by 
 napping it to within six inches of the ceiling 
 and catching it, t other side up, in the fry 
 ing pan, as every fit frontiersman should. 
 But blink as you will, it is a solemn truth 
 that we are now sitting down to an omelet 
 two feet and a half thick and a little matter 
 of one hundred and ten feet across! And 
 worth more than all the food your whole 
 household could eat in a generation. 
 
 The worst of it was that the chef was 
 away. Don Ygnacio, who had served up 
 these gigantic dishes for thirty years, and 
 had the knack of them, was to-day in Do 
 lores; and in charge of the range was a 
 
 257 
 
258 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 fuzzy-faced lad of eighteen who had never 
 turned a Guanajuato omelet in his life. 
 
 Guanajuato, you must know, is one of the 
 oldest and richest silver-mining 1 districts in 
 the world. Founded over three hundred and 
 fifty years ago, this picturesque Mexican 
 city has produced more than a billion dollars 
 in bullion, and not tired yet. In 1527 a Span 
 ish miner invented in Mexico the cheapest 
 and simplest method yet known for reduc 
 ing silver ores the so called "patio process" 
 by which the great bulk of the silver of 
 Mexico and Peru has been extracted for so 
 many centuries. To this day the haciendas 
 for patio reduction are among the most in 
 teresting features of the great silver camps 
 of Spanish America. Each hacienda is a little 
 walled city with its strong ramparts, and 
 corner towers loop-holed for muskets; its 
 huge sheds for the primitive ore-grinding; 
 its pleasant offices and home for the admin- 
 istrador; its quarters for employes; its sta 
 bles for hundreds of mules; and its enor 
 mous stone skillets wherein the hugest 
 omelets in the world are "cooked." 
 
 Torta in Spanish America is the usual 
 word for omelet. It is literally a "cake," 
 and "of eggs" is implied. But the miners 
 use it specifically for the omelet of wet- 
 ground ore seasoned with the necessary 
 
The Silver Omelet. 259 
 
 chemicals to assemble the silver. In looks 
 it is simply a stupendous mud pie. 
 
 In the hacienda of the Cypresses one of 
 these omelets was even now cooking. Pa 
 tient burro caravans had packed down from 
 the wonderful old bonanza mine of the Valen- 
 ciana enough cargas of that broken gray 
 rock to make forty-six "heaps" of 3200 
 pounds each. The ore had been fed to the 
 great trundling molina, whose ponderous, 
 upright, iron-bound wheel grudgingly fol 
 lowed the straining mules round and round 
 its pivot, crunching the rock finer and finer, 
 till the particles sifted through the screen 
 to the bins below. Thence it had been 
 shoveled into the wet-grinding arrastras 
 thirty big stone tubs, around which the 
 mules circled with their "whims," dragging 
 granite blocks which scrubbed the wet 
 gravel into fine paste. Then the mud went 
 to the great cajete (tank), where the surplus 
 water was "wept away," as they say; and 
 finally to the stone -walled, stone -paved 
 patio, to become a torta. 
 
 Almost anyone with eyes could crush 
 rock, dry or wet; but when it came to 
 sampling that precious mud, deciding pre 
 cisely how much silver it carried to the ton 
 and how refractory it was, and therefore 
 just how much salt and just how much 
 
160 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 mercury must be put in for seasoning-, why, 
 then was no time for a greenhorn. Fifty 
 thousand dollars is no joke, any way you 
 look at it; and when you come to hunting 
 for $50,000 by the invisible atom in a hun 
 dred and fifty tons of mud, it is as serious 
 as anything- well can be. 
 
 But Don Yg-nacio had had to go, and with 
 four of the trustiest servants, all armed; 
 for in those days, a generation ago, the 
 brigands were a fear on every highway of 
 Mexico. And there was no one to leave in 
 charge except Alberto, his nephew. 
 
 Luckily there had been time to set a 
 recipe for the torta just turned into the 
 pan. "So much salt and so much azogue"* 
 said Don Ygnacio; "that, I think, will suit. 
 But watch it well; and if not, season it by 
 the formula. Care, then, and much luck!" 
 
 Every day of the seventeen since then, 
 Alberto had paced the flagging by the patio, 
 and the passages of the great sheds where 
 dry mill and wet mill were chewing 1 their 
 noisy mouthfuls for a new torta, now and 
 again turning his eye covertly to the last 
 room on the administrador s porch, behind 
 whose heavy door he had heaped the forty- 
 pound bars of massy silver from the last 
 omelet. The washing and concentration 
 
 * Quicksilver. 
 
The Silver Omelet. 261 
 
 and smelting- he had superintended without 
 much difficulty, and had seen that $49,000 
 worth of metal safely stored. 
 
 So far as the present torta went, his 
 assays indicated that Don Ygnacio s hasty 
 estimate had been precisely right. But he 
 certainly hoped the old manager would be 
 back in time to decide if the usual eighteen 
 days had been enough "cooking-" and, 
 doubly, to fix the seasoning- for the next 
 omelet. And in all, it was a heavy respon 
 sibility for a boy who had studied a 
 hundred tortas, but never been charged 
 with one before ; and it was to be noticed 
 that his shoulders were not quite so mirac 
 ulously square as on the first day, nor his 
 chest so thick, now that he came down from 
 the arrastras to the patio. 
 
 In this quarter-acre mud omelet the beat 
 ing- and the cooking- went on together. A 
 score of barelegged men and grown boys 
 waded thig-h-deep in the mess, driving- their 
 mules (blindfolded, poor beasts, to protect 
 their eyes), and holding- down the drag- 
 boards, to mix the mercury and its prey. 
 
 It was close to noon. In five minutes the 
 wading- mules would be done with their ex 
 hausting- day s work of six hours. Alberto 
 walked down toward the well-tower beside 
 the patio, and something- drew his eyes to 
 
262 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 an overgrown lad slouching- behind one 
 white mule at the edge of the mud. Poor 
 dullard ! It was one thing- to wade in mud 
 at eighteen cents a day, and quite another 
 to manage mud which was worth a com 
 fortable year s salary per ton. 
 
 "S-s-t!" 
 
 Alberto started. Surely it could not be ! 
 Well, it was ! This perambulating mudlark 
 was actually "s-s-t"-ing to him! 
 
 "Care!" whispered the Indian lad, as 
 Alberto came alongside the stone curb. He 
 looked only at his mule, hauling at the tired 
 beast and scolding it for some imaginary 
 offence, and between his objurgations drop 
 ping whispered "asides." 
 
 "Am, ill-said brute! (Young Excellency, 
 the bandits! ) For how long must I enshow 
 thee to walk well? (And some of those in 
 the hacienda !) Miserable! For what is the 
 rein? (They are making to rob to-night! ) 
 Arre, lazy-bones!" 
 
 The stolid face had not once changed; 
 and now that another driver approached, 
 he went sus-ushing off through the mud 
 with never a sidelong glance. 
 
 Alberto felt himself grown suddenly pale ; 
 but he was no fool. He glanced at the in 
 truder. It was a new man from the country 
 a tall, powerful fellow with a huge scar 
 
The Silver Omelet. 263 
 
 on his cheek, shifty eyes, and a beak which 
 had already earned him the nickname of 
 Narigudo "Big- Nose." He in turn sent 
 a sly, sharp look first at the young- Indian 
 ahead, then at the young- manag-er. The 
 latter was already walking- quietly toward 
 the well-house. 
 
 The silver bell in the old belfry clanged 
 noon. The waders, of two legs and four, 
 clambered out from the mud. In a moment 
 blindfolds and harness lay on the flagging, 
 and the mules, suddenly optimistic, went 
 braying and scampering out through the 
 great gate to bathe and drink by the high 
 way in the little stream which has carried 
 more precious burdens, doubtless, than any 
 other brook on earth.* A moment later 
 there was a more deafening clatter, as the 
 hundred mules from the mills came gallop- 
 ading down the flags in a very avalanche. 
 They would have to work six hours more; 
 but they knew the noon hour. Resistless 
 as a charge of cavalry, they swept around 
 the corners and out of the gate in a jam 
 which seemed sure to kill some of them. 
 
 Alberto had laughed a thousand times at 
 this daily avalanche ; but now he saw it 
 with far-off eyes. He dipped his hand in a 
 
 *It is estimated that five hundred million dollars worth of 
 silver and mercury have gone down it. 
 
264 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 bucket of the pump-wheel and bathed his 
 head, wherein a thousand or more little 
 prickles snapped. It was enough to make 
 anyone s brain crackle robbers all about, 
 accomplices in the hacienda itself, nearly 
 fifty thousand dollars in the room at the 
 head of the corridor, and he alone ! 
 
 This boy had been carefully reared. He 
 was unused to danger and to responsibility; 
 and now he was fearfully scared. And yet 
 well, he had inherited something- from 
 the men who conquered that wilderness so 
 many centuries ago. 
 
 In five minutes the young- administrador 
 was making his rounds as usual, now and 
 then stopping to pick up a sample of ore 
 and examine it with great apparent inter 
 est. Among the groups of laborers he 
 passed at lunch he felt, with a little shiver, 
 that some eyes were on him even more 
 sharply than they are always on the admin 
 istrador s back; but outwardly he gave no 
 sign, as he figured away at very much the 
 toughest problem he had ever dreamed of. 
 
 Suddenly he struck his head, and turned 
 and walked down to the patio. In full view 
 of the men he took a careful sample from 
 the mud omelet here and there, scrutinized 
 it critically, and carried it off to the assay- 
 room. In ten minutes he was out again; 
 
The Silver Omelet. 265 
 
 and walking- up among- the laborers, he 
 said : " A holiday for all, this afternoon. For 
 to me the torta looks to be cooked, and Don 
 Ygnacio should be here to-night, who will 
 know. Go, then; but at dawn ag-ain. " 
 
 That was an end of lunch, of course. 
 The men sprang- up with "Infinite thanks, 
 sir !" and were already making- for the g-ate, 
 except Narig-udo and four others, who 
 mumbled over their last enchilada, instead 
 of throwing- it away, and looked first at 
 their mates and then at one another. 
 
 "Sefior, I do not think it done," broke out 
 "Big Nose," sullenly. 
 
 "Who g-ave thee a candle in this fu 
 neral?" Alberto retorted, coolly. "An- 
 swerest thou to the owner whether there 
 be loss or gain?" 
 
 Narig-udo said no more, but rose to follow 
 his comrades as Alberto disappeared in 
 the office. When the boy emerged, five 
 minutes later, the place was deserted. 
 
 Rather simple, after all! Only five trai 
 tors, apparently; and for the present they 
 were gone. Now, just to lock and bar the 
 big gate, and think w r hat next. 
 
 In much more comfortable mind after 
 bolting the only entrance to the walled ha 
 cienda, Alberto strolled up to the great 
 shed, and halted a moment by the big trun- 
 
266 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 die-mill, pondering-. So far, so g-ood; and 
 now what? Leave the place locked, and 
 ride up to the city to warn the authorities? 
 
 A sound that you might hardly call a 
 sound, so faint was it, startled his tense 
 nerves; and as he wheeled the blood went 
 from his face. Fifteen feet away, barefoot, 
 Narig-udo stood in the door of the ore-shed, 
 with an ug-ly smile. 
 
 " Young- Excellency," he drawled, inso 
 lently, u you have locked me in. Give me 
 the keys to g-o!" 
 
 At this Alberto found his voice. "In this 
 hacienda," said he, steadily, "it is accus 
 tomed to obey the administrador, and not to 
 command him. I will let you out when I go 
 to the gate." 
 
 "Ah, it s the administrador, is it? Then 
 give me the keys before I eat an adminis 
 trador 7" The tone had chang-ed from inso 
 lence to rag-e, and the angfry fellow sprang- 
 forward. 
 
 Alberto wavered in his tracks, and then 
 straig-htened with a snap. The key of the 
 bullion-room? Never! 
 
 He plucked the heavy keys from his belt 
 and flungf them fiercely, just as that big- 
 hand clutched his shoulder. Narigudo 
 hurled him ag-ainst the wheel-post w r ith a 
 curse, and sprawled forward in a desperate 
 
The Silver Omelet. 267 
 
 effort. But the keys, just eluding his 
 fingers, clanked down into the deep drain. 
 
 "Only wait!" he roared. "I shall have it 
 just the same, and you shall pay the 
 trouble!" 
 
 He plunged into the opening: with a back 
 ward glare that made Alberto s heart stand 
 still. It was no use to run he was locked 
 in, too. Just to wait to be murdered ! 
 
 But then the boy leaped forward with a 
 new light in his eyes. A big* wooden trough 
 stood there uptilted upon one face. There 
 was a muffled bellow; but he hunched his 
 shoulder to the mass, and inched it for 
 ward, and sank upon it with a queer, sob 
 bing laugh. A fine trap for the big rat ! 
 
 But he had forgotten the difference be 
 tween a strong boy s strength and a power 
 ful man s. His seat heaved under him; 
 clearly, if his weight were removed, Nari- 
 gudo could lift it. The fellow had all his 
 mighty back in play, and seemed like to 
 overturn his prison door, jailer and all. 
 
 Alberto could not even groan. It was im 
 possible to stay here, as great dangers were 
 to be guarded against elsewhere. But he 
 saw plainly that he could not get far before 
 
 Narigudo would be out, and ! There was 
 
 no weight nearer than the ore-sacks, and he 
 dared not desert the trough long enough to 
 
268 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 go half-way to them. In a night-mare of 
 terror he crouched on the trough, trying to 
 make himself heavy, and praying to all the 
 saints. 
 
 Suddenly he gave a wild shout. The 
 whim! There stood the great vertical 
 wheel; its pole, ten feet away, was two feet 
 from the ground. If! Thank God, there 
 was no ore in its path ! 
 
 Alberto leaped up, dancing noisily on the 
 trough. He sprang to the floor and back, 
 ran off two strides, and rushed upon the 
 trough again. Now his head was clear as a 
 bell. 
 
 In another dash he seized the ponderous 
 pole and wrenched at it with all his force. 
 The mill creaked and gave an inch or two. 
 Back he pounced noisily upon the trough, 
 and back again to the pole for another 
 mighty tug; and again, and a dozen times 
 again. Each time the reluctant wheel 
 groaned a few inches forward upon its 
 circle, and now the end of the pole barely 
 overlapped the end of the trough. 
 
 All was quiet below. The prisoner, puz 
 zled by these crazy antics overhead, was 
 waiting for a clew to what it all meant. 
 Now, indeed, he began to heave again; but 
 Alberto, braced backward on the trough, 
 was slowly, surely dragging the pole in. 
 
The Silver Omelet. 269 
 
 Another fierce jerk, and his task was done. 
 The great horizontal stick overhung the 
 very middle of the trough. 
 
 The boy rose with an effort and leaned 
 against the wheel. A wan smile came on 
 his lips as the trough rose with a jerk 
 just three inches. Then it thumped against 
 the pole and went down with a bang. The 
 trap was locked, and Alberto never stopped 
 till he sank breathless on the office steps. 
 
 It was already turning dusk; there was 
 no time to lose. Muskets plenty were in 
 the armory, but Narigudo had the key. 
 However, there was one gun in the office, 
 and Alberto loaded it with nervous fingers. 
 Then he climbed into the loop-holed turret 
 which overhung the gate, and crouched, 
 waiting. But another thought seemed to 
 come, for he chuckled and ran down the 
 court. When he came back to the tower, 
 twenty minutes later, the stables were 
 empty, and so was the office drawer from 
 which Don Ygnacio distributed cohetes on 
 the eve of a feast-day. On the other hand, 
 a hundred sleepy mules were huddled in 
 the entrance, with a rope stretched taut 
 behind them, and back of the rope a great 
 many little heaps of small, red cylinders. 
 
 At nine o clock there was a faint tap 
 at the gate. "Narigudo!" someone whis- 
 
270 The Silver Omelet. 
 
 pered; and in a moment, louder and impa 
 tiently, "Narigudo! Art thou asleep? 
 Open!" 
 
 Alberto almost laughed. Then he drew 
 back his shoulders and said, sharply: "Not 
 a shot till I say the word! As for you, 
 stupids, you see the gate ! And your Nari 
 g-udo he is well boxed up!" 
 
 There was a quick scuffling below. Evi 
 dently the bandits had run back under the 
 bottom of the tower, puzzled by this turn of 
 affairs. For half an hour there was a trying- 
 silence; then a sudden rush, and something 
 smote the gate with a tremendous crash. 
 
 "Not yet!" cried Alberto. "Wait for the 
 word!" 
 
 But the robbers were not to be fooled. If 
 there were really defenders, they would 
 have fired before now; and again the bat 
 tering-ram made the great gate tremble. 
 
 Alberto s finger itched on the trigger. 
 Should he shoot? Before he could reload, 
 they might have the gate down. And 
 then ? 
 
 He leaned the long musket against the 
 wall and crept down into the courtyard 
 just as the thunderous crash came again. 
 Evidently the gate was beginning to give. 
 
 Another smash, and a leaf of the gate 
 began to creak with that ominous, growing 
 
The Silver Omelet. 271 
 
 creak that goes before a fall. Just then 
 there was a little flash in the court-yard, 
 and a queer s-s-sizz-sizz, pop! bang-! Bang! 
 B-b-b-b-ang! The gate reeled and fell out 
 ward, and with the roar of a landslide a 
 hundred terrified mules burst through the 
 gap, trampling and scattering like chaff the 
 knot of bandits gathered to burst in. 
 
 And then from far up the cobble-paved 
 highway came a stentorian yell, and pistol 
 shots, and a new clamor of iron hoofs. Two 
 minutes later Don Ygnacio and his men 
 swept into the court-yard, where a col 
 lapsed young hero lay beside a vast litter of 
 bursted firecrackers. 
 
A Duel in the Desert 
 
A Duel in the Desert. 
 
 F the innumerable tragedies of the wil- 
 derness the grim procession of life 
 and death, the irreconcilable conflict of the 
 animals as bounden as we are to appetite 
 and passion and self-preservation proba 
 bly every hunter of considerable experience 
 has seen the eloquent tokens; and every 
 reader has heard at least of the sensational 
 cases. The wonder is, perhaps, that these 
 latter are so few ; that only one death out of 
 a million is so far outside the vast inclusive 
 rule as to be of interest to us dull-eyed ob 
 servers. For the law of conflict is inexora 
 ble. Outside of man and his protected 
 servitors, only a tiny fraction of a per cent. 
 of the animals die "a natural death" that 
 is, without violence. Of teeming- sea and 
 teeming forest, a vast majority of the deni 
 zens perish "with their boots on" over 
 whelmingly a prey to that insatiate "hollow 
 feeling" which Nature has put forwarder 
 
 275 
 
276 A Duel in the Desert. 
 
 of the feral population, lest it overwhelm 
 the earth. The "defensive" animals fall, 
 as a rule, to the appetite of their predatory 
 neighbors; the predatory beasts, in turn, 
 have a reasonable expectation of death at 
 the " hands" of their rivals in the tribe, 
 their foes outside, or the only unnatural 
 killer, Man. Every acre of field and forest 
 has had its myriad tragedies of the humble 
 wild-folk though we are too unobservant 
 to note the fact. A few bleaching" bones, a 
 wisp of fur or feathers, a dim scurry in the 
 dust this and no more is the chronicle of 
 the snuffing out of a life as gladly lived, as 
 hardly parted with as our own. Many au 
 thors have become famous by their skillful 
 dissection of the Beastliness of Man; but 
 we too seldom remember (unless while 
 reading the Jungle Stories or Wahb) the 
 Humanity of the Beasts, which is quite as 
 true a part of natural history. This is 
 mostly because in our civilized cushioning 
 we know nothing real about the beasts. 
 They are very little more to us than so 
 many forms of speech, raw material for 
 perfunctory literature or for "hunting," 
 whose only serious penetration is put up in 
 brass cylinders by the U.M.C. Co. It is 
 nothing short of astounding how little the 
 average "hunter" knows of the game he 
 
A Duel in the Desert. 277 
 
 kills, except so much of its habit as shall 
 enable him to kill it. Indeed, the very name 
 "Game" is perhaps significant of this blind 
 ness. It is a game, and a great game, if 
 shrewdly played; but pity the man who 
 can see in it nothing but the killing! He is 
 as far from being what I would soberly call 
 a hunter as the fellow whose only notion of 
 whist is to play trumps at every lead is far 
 from being a whist player. One who 
 knows as well as anyone, and as well loves, 
 the wild thrill of the chase, who has hunted 
 and been hunted, and found the keenest 
 " sport" when the "game" turned the ta 
 bles and he had to fight hand-to-hand for 
 his own life, is not apt to be foolishly 
 sentimental. But he is very apt to pity 
 those who have never learned the higher 
 side of hunting. To watch a beaver colony 
 at work; or a vixen with her pups; or a 
 bear family at play; or the wild stallion 
 herding his flirtatious manada and falling 
 like a thunderbolt upon some mustang Lo 
 thario; or partridge or wild turkey at mat 
 ing time experto credite, it is quite as much 
 "fun" and rather more woodcraft than 
 trapping or killing or "creasing." Which 
 is saying a great deal. And to such as mix 
 the game with brains, these things become 
 more and more the refinement and expert- 
 
278 A Duel in the Desert. 
 
 ness of it. As a matter of fact, a fox is a 
 much smarter hunter than any man who 
 hunts only to kill. His eyes and ears are 
 far better, his nose is a genius of which no 
 human has so much as an inkling 1 , his foot 
 fall is infinitely softer, his strategy far 
 more competent. For that matter, more 
 foxes escape the allied force and wit of a 
 score of men and a half-score of hounds 
 than partridges or quail escape the unaided 
 campaign of one fox. As to that, in the 
 average foxhunt, at least (and leaving out 
 of the count the trapper and real wilder 
 ness hunter), one hound is worth in effect 
 iveness half a hundred people. Without a 
 single dog to lead them, the whole chase 
 could as soon stay at home. 
 
 More picturesque, perhaps, than the 
 every-day sacrifice of a life to an appetite is 
 the animal duel to the death; and particu 
 larly when both parties fall. Feral combats 
 mostly deriving from sexual jealousy, 
 for it is comparatively rare that predatory 
 beasts shall fight outside their kind are 
 innumerable, though in a small minority of 
 cases fatal to either combatant; perhaps 
 fifty times as rarely to both. Even in the 
 extreme event, there is generally little visi 
 ble record left, and that of a sort that 
 shamefully few of our hunters can identify. 
 
A Duel in the Desert. 279 
 
 The best known because the most unmis 
 takable is the entanglement of buck deer 
 by their horns in such inextricable fashion 
 that the duellists starve to death. This is 
 not so extremely rare. I have found such 
 grappled skulls thrice in Maine, in the 
 Sierra Madre of Mexico, and in Colorado so 
 noble a duo of elk heads locked in this 
 Chinese puzzle of death that the inaccessi 
 bility of the range and the impossibility of 
 bringing out these ponderous relics have 
 given me a standing- grievance these seven 
 teen years. The swordfish pinned by his 
 beak to starve beside the pierced hull; the 
 rat in the fatal nip of a big clam ; the buffalo 
 and the cinnamon bear fallen together dead 
 all these I believe to be authentic; and of 
 the mutual Pyrrhic victory of two rattle 
 snakes I have seen the proof. 
 
 But beyond reasonable comparison, the 
 most extraordinary "document" I have 
 ever seen or heard of in this sort is the ab 
 solutely unique relic found in 1900 by Edwin 
 R. Graham in the desert county of Inyo, 
 Cal., near Coalingo, and now in the museum 
 of the Leland Stanford Jr. University. 
 There is no possible question of its authen 
 ticity. All the ingenuity of man could not 
 make a tolerable counterfeit of it. Nor do 
 I believe there is any reasonable doubt that 
 
a8o A Duel in the Desert. 
 
 it is the most remarkable record ever found 
 of a fight to the death. 
 
 It is unflattering- but typical of our civi 
 lized observation that thousands of people 
 including a great many "hunters" iden 
 tified these mummied protagonists as "a 
 coyote and an eagle." Even the photograph 
 shows what they are, as well as the vindic- 
 tiveness of their death-struggle. 
 
 A prowling wildcat (evidently too hungry 
 to be fanciful) finds a great horned owl 
 blinking upon the brink of a cliff, and 
 pounces upon it, catching a wing hold. The 
 owl, somewhat armored, even against those 
 terrible teeth and claws, by its quilting of 
 feathers, flings itself upon its back ; pound 
 ing fiercely with its free wing, tearing with 
 its hooked beak, and clenching its talons 
 into the flesh with that peculiar mechanical 
 lock-grip of its kind a grip which death 
 does not loosen, as more than one hunter 
 who picked an owl up unripe has learned to 
 his sorrow. That even this large owl could 
 not kill a full-grown wildcat in any ordinary 
 combat, probably every hunter knows. But 
 this owl chanced to get a clutch on the wild 
 cat s open fore paw, one of his claws 
 clinched behind a tendon and there it still 
 is, traceable even in the photograph. Per 
 haps he could not have withdrawn it him- 
 
WILDCAT AND OWL IN DEATH-STRUGGLE 
 
A Duel in the Desert. 281 
 
 self, had he been the survivor of the 
 strug-gle. The cat s jaws are still locked 
 upon the broken bone of the owl s left wing-. 
 Neither is otherwise very badly mangled; 
 and doubtless the cat would have torn to 
 shreds "the body of this death" and g-one 
 about his business with no more handicap 
 than that ineradicable talon in his paw. 
 
 But in their wild and blind melee they 
 overstepped the verg-e of the cliff, and down 
 they went tog-ether. The 40-foot fall does 
 not seem to have broken their clinch at all. 
 If it did, they renewed it. But, thoug-h 
 no fractures were sustained, the stumble 
 doubtless stunned the cat; and there, irre 
 trievably grappled in immortal hate, they 
 died tog-ether of thirst and loss of blood. 
 There at the foot of the cliff they were 
 found; desiccated by the furnace airs of 
 the desert, lig-ht as mummies, but unbro 
 ken ; their very eyeballs dried in their 
 sockets ; the plumag-e of the owl practically 
 complete, and enoug-h fur of the wildcat s 
 muzzle and paws left by the moths to iden 
 tify it even to those who could not recog-nize 
 its unequivocal anatomy. 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat. 
 
 ONE of my very first experiences in 
 the West was a midnight tussle with 
 a fifty-four pound wildcat in a lonely cabin 
 in the Greenhorn Mountains of Colorado. I 
 shall never forget my horror at the sight of 
 that huge puss on a beam over my head; 
 for I had had a serious experience with the 
 wildcat of the Northeast, and supposed that 
 this fellow, who was twice as big, was like 
 wise twice as much to be dreaded. 
 
 I did not know that the Rocky Mountain 
 wildcat is not nearly so fierce, and that he 
 never attacks man as does sometimes his 
 cousin of the Maine and New Hampshire 
 forests ; and I had very slight hopes for the 
 outcome of a struggle twice as severe as 
 that which a furry freebooter in the Pemige- 
 wassett wilderness gave me a good many 
 years ago. I need not have worried. The 
 Colorado cat was easy game ; and when the 
 
286 A Rastle with a Wildcat. 
 
 last charge in my six-shooter had brought 
 him to the floor, his life was soon ended. 
 
 That first encounter, in New Hampshire, 
 was more than thirty years ago years 
 filled with roving adventure and many other 
 things which are apt to crowd the past back 
 into forgetfulness. But I remember it as 
 though it had been yesterday. Small, white 
 
 exclamation-points" on my chest, with sev 
 eral other scars, occasionally call it to mind. 
 
 I had grown from a consumptive boy to a 
 small but thoroughly athletic young man. 
 Wrestling, boxing, canoeing, hunting and 
 fishing had brought me into good condition, 
 and every muscle was hard as wire. But 
 for that fact, I should not be writing this; 
 for the fight took my utmost ounce of 
 strength. Had it come a year earlier, my 
 grave would be in the wilderness to-day. 
 
 Of the yearly thousands who visit the 
 great summer hotels of the White and 
 Franconia Mountains, extremely few ever 
 penetrate the Pemigewassett wilderness. 
 The wild ranges wall its sides, and between 
 them is a huge and virgin forest, full of 
 game, dotted and seamed by lakes and 
 brooks that swarm with trout. In this 
 almost untrodden wild rises the east branch 
 of the Pemigewassett, the beautiful little 
 river which later becomes the Merrimac. 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat. 287 
 
 I was hunting- and fishing that spring on 
 the head waters of the east branch. My 
 canoe swam a lovely but nameless lakelet, 
 and my camp, roofed with birch-bark, was 
 near the shore. There were three brooks 
 running into the lake noisily; and at the 
 south end the clear young river slipped 
 silently out through the dark trees. 
 
 It was the last day of May, and still cold 
 in that mountain bowl. I had a fat deer 
 hung high beside my shelter; so there was 
 meat for some time. In a little while the 
 fishing would be very tame, for there the 
 trout have not fully learned what a deceiver 
 man is, and there is little sport in standing 
 almost astride a rill, and with a five-foot 
 willow pulling a dozen or twenty fish out of 
 one pool. But now I knew the big fish were 
 around, and I determined to spend the day 
 with my rod. 
 
 By ten o clock I was well over toward 
 Mount Lafayette, on the largest of the 
 brooks which came into my lake from the 
 west; and, descending the steep banks to 
 the bed of the stream, prepared to fish 
 down toward camp. 
 
 The brook fell very rapidly here, in a 
 series of short falls, at the bottom of each 
 of which was a deep, lovely pool of water, 
 so clear that it seemed only air with a light 
 
288 A Rastle with a Wildcat. 
 
 tinge of green. I could see pebbles ten feet 
 below the surface, and the brown flashes 
 of the sportive trout. 
 
 In five minutes I was landing my first 
 fish, a game half-pounder, and others bit as 
 fast as I could attend to them. 
 
 There was no need of covering much 
 ground. I could have caught in fifty yards 
 all I could eat in a week. But I kept moving 
 homeward, taking only one or two of the 
 largest fish from a pool and throwing back 
 any accidental small ones. 
 
 In this way I had gone down, perhaps, 
 half a mile, when I came to the largest pool 
 I had found on that brook. Here it seemed 
 likely that there might be some particularly 
 large trout. In fact, the first one I struck 
 seemed to be much larger than any on my 
 string; but he snapped the hook and was 
 gone with a splash. 
 
 I had drawn an extra hook from my box 
 and was "ganging" it upon the line, when 
 some impulse caused me to look up. As I 
 did so, the tin box fell clattering upon the 
 rocks and my rod at my feet. 
 
 The brook here had cut a narrow gorge 
 through a ridge, and the pool at whose head 
 I stood touched on each side the very foot 
 of a rocky wall nearly forty feet high. I 
 was standing on a ledge whence the brook 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat. 289 
 
 dropped, perhaps, ten feet into the pool, 
 and the banks were not nearly so high 
 there. Still, I presume the tops were fifteen 
 feet above my head. 
 
 A giant pine had fallen across the gorge 
 from bank to bank, making a knotty bridge, 
 which was almost over me, but a little in 
 front; and upon that great log was the 
 Something which had brought my heart 
 up into my mouth with such a bump. 
 
 On the dark side of the tree, behind the 
 stump of a huge limb, flat and motionless 
 as you could press your hand upon the ta 
 ble, lay almost the last thing in the world 
 that I desired to see there a wildcat. 
 
 Whether it was crouching there when I 
 came, or, as is more likely, had crawled out 
 from the bank to surprise me, I never 
 knew; but there it was confronting me. 
 
 I could just see the fierce glints in its 
 eyes; and when its gaze met mine, the tip 
 of the ears, outlined on a patch of sky, 
 seemed to flatten. My rifle was in camp, 
 for it was too long a walk to bring it when I 
 wished to fish. I had not even a revolver 
 nothing but a keen-edged, clip-point hunt 
 ing-knife, which hung in its sheath on my 
 left hip. 
 
 I hardly dared move, but that knife I 
 must have. Slipping my right hand cau- 
 
290 A Rastle with a Wildcat. 
 
 tiously behind my back, I reached far 
 around, till at last it touched the welcome 
 hilt, and I began to slip the sheath slowly 
 around my belt to the right side, where the 
 knife could be drawn less ostentatiously. 
 
 All this time I had never taken my eyes 
 from those of the unwelcome intruder, and 
 I kept scowling- at him with a savage ex 
 pression which was meant to alarm him, 
 but which sadly flattered my real feelings. 
 
 How long w r e stood eyeing- each other 
 thus, I do not know. It seemed an age and 
 must have been several minutes. Neither 
 of us moved. He lay crouched and menac 
 ing; I stood outwardly defiant, w r ith my 
 hand on that precious buckhorn handle. 
 And then my wet feet, chilled with the icy 
 water of the brook, betrayed me. I felt a 
 sneeze working toward the surface. 
 
 Now, when /sneeze, it is no gentle tschoo! 
 but half a dozen or more wild and uncon 
 trollable explosions, which never fail to 
 bring tears to my own eyes, if they are 
 lucky enough not to scare some unsuspect 
 ing stranger. 
 
 I struggled to choke that sneeze, to hold 
 it back; but I might as well have tried to 
 hold the foaming brook. 
 
 Ker-cheooo ! Ker-cheooo ! Ker-cheooo-oo ! 
 With each eruption my head flew down and 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat. 291 
 
 my body shook; and as I straightened up 
 after the fifth burst, I saw through the 
 mist that filled my eyes something- dark 
 descending upon me like a great, hazy bird. 
 
 I had not once changed my position since 
 first seeing the wildcat. He was a trifle to 
 my left, and my left foot and shoulder were 
 pointed up-stream. Our lives hang on such 
 trifles as that! Now, with the trained 
 instinct of the boxer who has first to 
 learn to act without stopping to think how 
 to act I threw my left hand up and out! 
 Half-way to arms-length it met that furry 
 avalanche, and broke its force. The cat 
 landed full against my side. 
 
 Its sharp hind claws sank into my thigh, 
 and the sharper fore claws clutched me in 
 the pectoral muscles in front and between 
 the shoulder-blades behind. The pain was 
 cruel, but I had no time even to cry out. At 
 the instant I expected to feel those merci 
 less jaws on my neck, and that would be 
 the last. 
 
 The wildcat knows where the jugular 
 vein is as well as the best surgeon of them 
 all; and it is for that that he invariably 
 jumps. Animals killed by these cruel am- 
 buscaders are sometimes left whole and 
 unmangled, save for that wicked little gap 
 at the side of the throat. 
 
292 A Rastle with a Wildcat. 
 
 But my boxing lessons had saved me. 
 As my left hand went out in that "straight 
 counter," it struck full in the throat of the 
 cat; and with the swift inspiration of des 
 perate men, I clutched the folds of fur 
 there with all my might. 
 
 The cat strained hard to pull-in to me 
 and that was a cruel leverage it had in my 
 own flesh. But my arm, never a weak one, 
 was doubly strong now; and, though I 
 could not force him from his hold, I kept 
 his head well away from mine, which I 
 "ducked" to increase the still unsatisfac 
 tory distance. 
 
 Then, drawing the keen six-inch blade, I 
 drove it against his side. His left side was, 
 of course, the one exposed to me; but we 
 were so "mixed up" that I could take no 
 accurate aim at his heart, and just thrust 
 blindly and madly at that stretch of mottled 
 fur. 
 
 Nothing will ever dim my recollection of 
 that desperate struggle; and yet I seemed 
 in a sort of trance. You have had night 
 mares, wherein some savage beast pursued 
 you, and you slammed vain doors on him 
 which he brushed open, and fired ineffective 
 rifles at him whose diminished pop did not 
 affect him in the least; and, do what you 
 would, nothing availed against that impla- 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat. 293 
 
 cable danger. So it was with me. I seemed 
 under a spell. 
 
 Those awful claws were tearing- me every 
 where; that fatal head was struggling to 
 break down my tiring arm; and the des 
 perate thrusts of the knife with all the 
 force of my right arm seemed not even to 
 penetrate the tough hide. They went deep 
 enough, as I found later, but at the moment 
 I was sure they hardly scratched him. 
 
 Since that day I have been through a 
 great many of the things of whose suspense 
 we say, "They seemed eternities," but 
 never one, I think, that seemed so endless 
 as that. And yet it could hardly have lasted 
 a minute. I was growing very weak. Blood 
 was running down in my boots, and my 
 weary left arm was no longer rigid. My 
 right was no longer fully under control, 
 and once, when the knife glanced a rib, it 
 nearly flew from my hand. 
 
 Once, too, I struck high, and the cat caught 
 my right wrist between his savage teeth 
 and tore out a piece. Was he invulnerable? 
 I began actually to believe so to fancy 
 that, after all, it must be a hideous dream. 
 
 You may imagine from that into what a 
 state my mind had come. But still I plied 
 the knife, and still with cramped and trem 
 bling arm held off the creature s jaws. 
 
294 A Rastle with a Wildcat. 
 
 And then, on a sudden, a great wave of 
 joy swept over me, and I yelled madly. 
 The curving- claws, set deep in my back 
 and breast, relaxed. It was only the least 
 bit in the world, but I could feel the ex 
 quisite pain of that slight withdrawal; and 
 in another instant they came out alto 
 gether, and my foe fell limp upon the rocks 
 beside me, where he never moved again. 
 
 I looked at him once; my eyes grew dim, 
 and I fell across him. 
 
 When I recovered consciousness, we were 
 lying in a heap, wet with our common 
 blood. I crawled a couple of feet to the 
 brook, and the icy water revived me, so 
 that at last I could rise and limp about the 
 field of our strange battle. 
 
 The cat was a mass of wounds; and as 
 I counted the eleven fatal thrusts, I 
 marvelled at his vitality and pluck and 
 very heartily respected them, too. Any 
 one of ten of them would have finally 
 killed him, but he had kept his hold to the 
 very last, which had sunk deep into his 
 heart. 
 
 And such a small beast to attack the lord 
 of creation ! I do not think he weighed over 
 thirty pounds; but what a model of com 
 pact strength and agility! His skin was 
 so slashed as to be absolutely unsavable; 
 
A Rastle with a Wildcat. 295 
 
 but I kept his scalp a long- time, till the 
 moths destroyed it. 
 
 As for myself, I was in little more attrac 
 tive shape than he. Of my stout duck coat 
 and trousers only the right half remained. 
 My duck vest and heavy flannel shirt 
 boasted little but a few shreds two-thirds 
 of the way around my body. I was half- 
 naked, and my breast, back, left side and 
 left thigh were laced with deep, bleeding 
 g-ashes. 
 
 There is only one thing- about that day 
 which I do not remember; and that is, how 
 I got back that ten miles to camp. But 
 somehow I got there; for when I awoke 
 next morning, very weak and stiff for of 
 all wounds I know of none so painful as 
 those inflicted by a cat I was under my 
 roof of birch bark, and a spotted scalp lay 
 on the sand beside me. 
 
A Tame Deer 
 
A Tame Deer. 
 "9 
 
 BUCK deer, at certain seasons, or when 
 wounded, may be very ugly custom 
 ers; and in hunting- East and West, I have 
 had several unpleasant experiences with 
 them. The very first deer I ever killed, up 
 in the New Hampshire mountains, came 
 wonderfully close to killing me after his 
 hind leg was broken at the hip and I thought 
 it was quite safe to close in to finish him. 
 How he literally "wiped the ground" with 
 me! 
 
 Others of his kind have given me trouble 
 and danger in varying degrees, and in a 
 variety of ways ; and I have known several 
 persons killed by them. But the "closest 
 call" a deer ever gave me, and one of the 
 most terrible struggles in all my hunting 
 and wandering, befell me in the heart of 
 the city of Los Angeles ; and the hero was 
 a "tame "buck. 
 
 It was many years ago, at a time when 
 my passion for pets, always strong, had 
 unusual opportunities for gratification in 
 
 299 
 
300 A Tame Deer. 
 
 one of the moss-gathering* intervals of a 
 usually rolling- stone. Behind the house 
 (where a half-million dollar block stands 
 today) was a good-sized yard, for a city lot, 
 well shaded with eucalyptus trees, and with 
 a substantial shed. Here was plenty of 
 room for pets, and we acquired a variety of 
 them. 
 
 First in our affection was my precious 
 old cat Beauty, which had come with the 
 family from Ohio. There was also a horse, 
 which boarded at the livery stable; and a 
 fine Danish hound that had adopted us. 
 This did very well for a while. But during: 
 a vacation run over New Mexico, I wounded 
 a young- eagle; and, seeing: that his wing- 
 would soon heal under proper care, I brought 
 him home and kept him in a leash on the 
 back porch, where he throve admirably. 
 
 Then someone presented me with a barn- 
 owl, and he kept the eagle company. Rab 
 bits have always pleased me ; and presently 
 I made some hutches, and in time had them 
 peopled with a dozen rabbits and guinea- 
 pigs. In a cage in my study lived a couple 
 of handsome rattlesnakes; and one day I 
 brought home in a slatted box a tiny wild 
 cat at which a patient wife cried: 
 
 " Don t get anything more, Charlie! We 
 can t move now without stepping on a pet; 
 
A Tame Deer. 301 
 
 and they are too much care for me, with 
 you gone at the office all day and almost 
 all night!" 
 
 But in spite of herself she grew very fond 
 of the wildcat baby, which would lie in her 
 lap and purr with the most ridiculously 
 disproportionate voice. It could hardly have 
 been a month old; and had I been the 
 hunter who found it in the Sierra Madre, it 
 should never have been taken from its 
 fierce mother at such an age for it had 
 not been weaned, evidently. 
 
 Its body was not as large as that of a 
 lean house-cat, but its legs were quite one- 
 half longer, so that it had rather the 
 appearance of being on stilts and very 
 uncertain, wobbly ones, too. Its feet were 
 twice the size of Beauty s, and its voice, in 
 growling, was so heavy and so savage that 
 one could scarce believe it issued from that 
 ungainly little frame. 
 
 It was very gentle with its mistress, 
 purred sonorously whenever she petted it, 
 and went stumbling all over the house at 
 her heels. Nor was it hostile to the young 
 lady who completed our family, not half so 
 afraid of Beauty as Beauty was of this wild 
 cousin. But with me it would have nothing 
 to do. As I was then city editor of the 
 morning newspaper, and was very little at 
 
302 A Tame Deer. 
 
 home, it evidently looked upon me as an 
 interloper, and at a glance of me would 
 snarl and show fight as sincerely as a 
 grown lynx. And it was an enemy not 
 altogether to be laughed at, as there are 
 still scars to testify. 
 
 Once it climbed up and hid among the 
 springs of my bed, and the heavy buck 
 gloves I put on for the task of dislodging 
 it did not save me from ugly tastes of those 
 keen teeth and claws. Perhaps it is quite 
 as well that Tiger did not survive his 
 infancy, but died of congestion at four or 
 five months old. Had he grown up, without 
 a change of heart, he might have become 
 troublesome. 
 
 With this much of a household on our 
 hands, we might very reasonably have been 
 content; and so probably should have been 
 but for one of those " chances of a life 
 time" which are always befalling the en 
 thusiast. A fellow down in the Mexican 
 quarter of the city had a pet deer, and, 
 learning of my hobby, pestered me to buy 
 " dirt cheap, Sir!" 
 
 "No, I don t want any deer. Couldn t 
 take care of him." 
 
 "Oh, but he is such a beauty, Sir, and 
 tame as a sheep, and $10 is nothing. Just 
 come and look at him I" 
 
A Tame Deer. 303 
 
 Well, it could do no harm to go and look at 
 a pretty animal; so I went with a virtuous 
 resolve not to acquire another single pet. 
 
 The result was what might have been 
 expected. He was a beauty. There is 
 almost nothing 1 handsomer than a perfect 
 Black-tail, and this was an excellent speci 
 men full grown, though young, with one 
 fork on his dagger-sharp antlers, and 
 gentle as a kitten. The first look of those 
 liquid eyes made my resolution tremble; 
 and when the lovely creature came and 
 nestled his face into my vest with perfect 
 confidence, I was lost. 
 
 I could not even wait to send an express 
 man for him. "Here is your $10," said I; 
 "and now give me a rope to lead him home." 
 
 The rope was put around that graceful 
 neck, and I started off in high glee. He 
 followed me like a lamb through the back 
 streets, paying little attention to people or 
 wagons for he had passed most of his 
 life in the city and much less abashed 
 than his new master by the sensation we 
 created. Once safely at home, I gave -him 
 a strong leather collar and a long steel 
 chain, the other end of which hooked into 
 a staple in the side of the shed. 
 
 Bonito, as we named him, seemed very 
 content in his new home. At night he had 
 
304 A Tame Deer. 
 
 a comfortable bed in the shed, and by day 
 his place outside. There was plenty of 
 alfalfa and young- wheat, which we had cut 
 for him from the rabbits patch, and bread 
 and sugar from the house ; and every morn 
 ing- my habit was to loose his chain and let 
 him wander about the yard with me. 
 
 He had a great curiosity about the rab 
 bits and the owl, a fair understanding with 
 Giallo, the dog, a supreme contempt for 
 the little wildcat which had been trans 
 ferred to a big cage in the yard and roared 
 at us whenever we approached. As for the 
 three human members of the family, he 
 was hail-fellow-well-met with us all. He 
 kept putting himself forward to be petted, 
 delighted to be scratched behind the ears, 
 and would rather eat from our hands than 
 from his trough. 
 
 For five or six months Bonito was the 
 pride of the family. He had grown very 
 fat, and was sleek and handsome as one 
 could wish. But with the advance of sum 
 mer he turned misanthrope. He began to 
 paw a considerable hollow by his post, and 
 now and again stamped his hoof on the 
 ground with that peculiarly audible rap 
 which with wild deer is an alarm-signal 
 sufficient to stampede a quietly grazing 
 herd. Then he began to show some con- 
 
A Tame Deer. 305 
 
 tempt for being- petted, and several times 
 pushed us away in a manner nothing: short 
 of rude. 
 
 At last I came home one night to find my 
 wife much worked up. She had gone out 
 that afternoon to feed Bonito and was giving 
 him an apple, when suddenly he lowered 
 his head and sprang- at her. Luckily the 
 sharp horns passed either side the slender 
 waist, pinning- her ag-ainst the shed, but 
 not hurting- her; and with much presence 
 of mind, instead of fainting- or screaming 
 or struggling-, she scratched beneath his 
 ears soothingly, and he at last let her 
 escape unharmed. 
 
 "H m! Well, don t you go near him 
 again," said I. "I ll attend to him myself, 
 if that s his temper;" and I forthwith pro 
 cured a new chain. 
 
 Several times in the next few weeks he 
 made lunges at me, but again would seem 
 gentle and would enjoy a petting. Against 
 my wife, however, he appeared to have 
 taken a sudden grudge, and would tug on 
 his chain at sight of her. 
 
 One Saturday she went to visit friends at 
 the beach, and I was to follow on the half- 
 past eight train next morning. It was four 
 o clock in the morning when I saw the 
 paper to press and came home, and at 
 
306 A Tame Deer. 
 
 seven o clock got up to care for the pets 
 before leaving". 
 
 When I went out to the yard, the deer 
 was not there. The staple was torn out, 
 and the drag of the chain enabled me to find 
 where Bonito had jumped the fence and 
 made off. I trailed him several blocks, and 
 at last found him impudently grazing on a 
 handsome lawn on Hill Street. 
 
 He did not attempt to elude me, and 
 when I took the end of the chain he followed 
 as meekly as you please, only stopping now 
 and then to nibble a bit of grass by the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 Unluckily just then I pulled out my 
 watch. Seven-fifty! Time to hurry up 
 and when Don Bonito stooped to graze, I 
 leaned back on the chain and brought him 
 along. Five or six times this happened, 
 and I fancied he was not quite so meek. 
 Hungry he could not be it was just his 
 stupid notion to take a bite by the wayside; 
 and my train would not wait for that. So 
 each time that he halted, a steady but re 
 sistless pull brought him sliding forward, 
 brace his feet as he would. 
 
 The last time I pulled there was a sur 
 prise. For an instant he held back with 
 all his strength, and then, suddenly hunch 
 ing his body like a panther, he gave a great 
 
A Tame Deer. 307 
 
 bound at me. Losing balance at this sud 
 den yielding- of the weight, I sprawled on 
 the sidewalk, and Bonito pounced upon me 
 like a cat, cutting my leg with his sharp 
 hoofs, and aiming his sharper horns at my 
 ribs. It was as well that he had to do with no 
 novice at catch-as-can wrestling, for without 
 those years of keen practice I never should 
 have come out from the next fifteen min 
 utes if, indeed, from the first onslaught. 
 As it was, I clutched a horn at the first 
 pass, within six inches of my side; and then, 
 capturing the other, readily got my feet. 
 
 This head-lock counter-balanced his 20 
 pounds superiority in weight, but the very 
 fact of being overpowered made him beside 
 himself. He began to fight with inconceiv 
 able fury, twisting till he seemed like to 
 break his neck in the effort to free his 
 horns or get at me with his feet. 
 
 It began to appear that he had me in 
 something like a "box." It was equally 
 out of the question to let him go or try to 
 lead him farther. Every motion or snort of 
 the infuriated animal showed that his one 
 thought now was not escape, but revenge. 
 
 Still, confident in my muscles like steel 
 yet from a thirty-five-hundred-mile walk 
 across the continent I had no apprehen 
 sions. The only thing necessary was to 
 
308 A Tame Deer. 
 
 take him home in such fashion that he 
 could not hurt me; and once there, the 
 chain would take care of him. 
 
 So I got my left arm locked in a chancery 
 hold around his neck, my right hand still 
 firmly holding his right horn, which worked 
 uncomfortably close to my stomach, and 
 thus, lifting him so that his fore feet were 
 off the ground, I started homeward. 
 
 But there had been a reckoning without 
 the host. The first two blocks went fairly, 
 though in an unceasing violent struggle 
 rather to the scandal of the two or three 
 passers we met, so early for Sunday morn 
 ing in that quiet part of the town. But 
 when I came with my prisoner to Fifth 
 Street, it was with the consciousness that I 
 was pretty well worn out, and that he, in 
 spite of the strangle-lock, seemed to be 
 growing fresher. 
 
 Each moment he fought with new rage 
 and vigor, sometimes driving me against 
 the fence, sometimes over the curb; lung 
 ing fiercely with those sinewy hind-legs, 
 and striking wildly with the pointed fore- 
 hoofs, whose dangerous effectiveness every 
 hunter knows. 
 
 The way we wrestled and fought over 
 the next six or seven hundred feet might 
 have been amusing to bystanders, but be- 
 
A Tame Deer. 309 
 
 came terrible to me. It was not for the 
 bruises and gashes I got, nor for the 
 breathless thumps against fences and 
 trees, nor for the being violently thrown 
 several times. I kept his head in chancery, 
 and these small hurts were not much more 
 than one expects to get in a good bout of 
 catch-as-can with a human adversary. 
 
 As long as I could keep that deadlock on 
 his neck I was perfectly safe from any 
 serious injury, but the grim certainty con 
 fronted me that I could not keep it much 
 longer. My arm began to give at his 
 fiercest lunges, my breath and heart were 
 alike stampeding, and I felt creeping over 
 me the dizzy faintness of utter exhaustion. 
 Never had wrestler given me such tussle 
 before though I have worked two hours 
 "on the carpet" at a bout. 
 
 Down we went again at the last corner, 
 and again a glancing hoof cut me as I 
 fought back to my feet. I dropped the 
 horn and clasped the left wrist with my 
 right hand, drawing the arm tighter under 
 the brute s throat, at once to hold him 
 surer and cut off his wind. But the broad 
 leather collar seemed to save him. A burly 
 fellow passed. "Help me with this deer!" 
 I panted; but he looked at the savage 
 struggles of Bonito and hurried on. 
 
310 A Tame Deer. 
 
 At the very gate the beast bore me down 
 once more; but once more I struggled up 
 and dragged him in. We swayed and 
 fought along, tearing up the gravel-walks 
 and flower-beds, and at last came to the 
 shed. I could barely stand, and Bonito 
 dragged me hither and yon. My eyes were 
 hazy, and the cramped arms began to slip. 
 Would Virginia never come ? I yelled again, 
 and just then she came running out. 
 
 "Fasten his chains around the post!" 
 I had just breath to gasp; and, like the 
 brave girl she was, she did it in what 
 seemed to me forever, while the deer and I 
 fought the last bout. 
 
 "Run!" I cried, when the chain was at 
 last secured ; and when she was in the back 
 door, I dragged Bonito to the end of his 
 chain, loosed my hold and fell backward. 
 I am positive that I could not have held him 
 twenty seconds longer to save my life. 
 
 He slacked back on the tether and hurled 
 himself forward till the steel links cracked 
 again, and his eyes fairly started with the 
 pressure on his throat. But the chain held, 
 and his frantic efforts, which continued as 
 long as I was in sight, were in vain. Had a 
 link parted then, he would have had an easy 
 victim. A few minutes breathing-spell 
 made me over, and by a bit of good fortune 
 
A Tame Deer. 3 1 1 
 
 I caught the next train, and reached Long 
 Beach not far behind time though with 
 various large rents and blood stains on my 
 clothing 1 . 
 
 The next day a butcher was summoned 
 to rid us of so dangerous a pet. He dealt 
 Bonito a fearful blow on the forehead with 
 a hatchet. The deer dropped as if shot, 
 and lay motionless ; and the butcher stepped 
 forward with his knife. But like a flash 
 the brute was on his feet again and on 
 his assailant, whose coat was pierced front 
 and back by the sharp antlers. It was a 
 remarkable chance that they had not en 
 tered his abdomen. 
 
 The butcher s fat, rosy face turned a 
 sickly gray. He kept his distance after 
 that, and with a long-handled ax made 
 thrice sure of the game before he would ven 
 ture again within the radius of that chain. 
 
 Bonito dressed one hundred and fifty-six 
 pounds so you see he was no feather 
 weight for a wrestler. He was fat, and 
 they said very good venison. At home we 
 could not think of eating the meat of a 
 former pet; but after his exploits, our sen 
 timent did not go so far as to make us 
 sorry that someone else could. 
 
 And since then I have never had an ambi 
 tion to get another "tame deer." 
 
The Rebel Double Runner 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 WHEN I was a lad in a lonely New 
 Hampshire village, in the memora 
 ble year of 1863, a great many fathers and 
 uncles and older brothers were off at some 
 fearful and dimly-comprehended distance, 
 dressed in blue, and, as we reckoned it, 
 fighting: battles daily. 
 
 How brave they had looked one morning, 
 as they left town, marching with fife and 
 drum along the crazy sidewalk, and off 
 down the " Depot Hill!" 
 
 After that, the games at school and after 
 school took a decidedly warlike tinge. 
 Wooden swords and muskets largely 
 usurped the place of top and ball; and 
 proud was the small boy whose grand-dad 
 would lend him a real sword of 1812, or an 
 ancient militia shako. 
 
 When the stern New Hampshire winter 
 came on, with its sleighing and coasting 
 and skating, military evolutions were some 
 what curtailed but not altogether. There 
 
 315 
 
316 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 were snow forts and snow battles; white- 
 blocked Sumters that defied the assault of 
 the enemy. 
 
 Patriotic feeling- ran riot ; and when one 
 young school-fellow, named Tip, espoused 
 the Southern cause for fun, and began to 
 press our ramparts sore, gaining recruits 
 every day by his sheer audacity, there 
 came to be snow-balls slightly thawed and 
 then left out over night to turn to ice and, 
 as a result, some dangerous casualties on 
 the battle-field. 
 
 The very opposite of Tip in many ways 
 was Mat Marks. Tip was restless, some 
 times reckless, always full of mischief, but 
 one of the squarest and least self-conscious 
 of boys. His sudden "turning- Rebel," 
 when he could hardly draft rebels enoug-h 
 to make the holding- of our forts against 
 them half-way interesting, was from no 
 lack of as good patriotism as ours. 
 
 But Tip liked excitement, and was less 
 vain than most of us ; and without a second 
 thought of any prejudice that he might 
 excite because of this boyish enterprise, he 
 abandoned the fort and took command of 
 the enemy -"just to make it interesting." 
 
 And, though he was always overwhelm 
 ingly outnumbered, interesting enough he 
 made it for "Us Unions" before he finished. 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 317 
 
 Mat, on the other hand, while in a way 
 as active and enterprising as Tip, was 
 much bound to the traditions not from 
 any principle or understanding- of them, 
 but because he liked to be on the popular 
 side, and at the head of it, too; for he had a 
 remarkably good opinion of himself. 
 
 Thanks to his diplomacy, he counted 
 more followers than any other lad in town, 
 and was fully satisfied of the justice of his 
 preeminence. He liked to deem himself 
 "a born leader of men," such as he read 
 of; and I have often wondered, since, that 
 we so long- and so unquestioningly obeyed 
 his smooth dictatorship. He was always 
 " organizing " the snow-ball battles were 
 the outcome of his genius and we carried 
 out his orders with remarkable fidelity. 
 
 With the twentieth of December came a 
 three-foot fall of snow, and in a few days it 
 was hard packed on every highway, like a 
 squeaky, white pavement. No more skating 
 now the sled was to be king for the next 
 two months. For a few days everybody 
 coasted, hit or miss; and the long slide 
 swarmed like an ant-hill going crazy. But 
 then the administrative mind of Mat began 
 to work. Everyone sliding down hill on his 
 own hook and straggling back at will this 
 was altogether too puerile and unorganized 1 
 
318 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 So Mat called a council of war. 
 
 "Say, boys," he said, "I ll tell you what 
 let s do! Instead of going: higgledy- 
 piggledy at it, like a lot of girls, let s 
 organize the coasting in good shape. We 11 
 have our rules and signals and right of 
 way, just like a railroad, and a switch at 
 the tannery corner so the small boys can go 
 on to the toll-bridge, carrying supplies for 
 the army, and the express-trains can turn 
 off to the depot and take troops to the front. 
 
 "Then, too, I think father ll let me have 
 old Nell, and we can make her haul back all 
 the sleds in a string, and let fellows have 
 turns riding her down to meet us again. 
 So that ll get rid of the meanest part of it 
 the pulling our sleds up hill. Besides, 
 we re all the time having trouble with 
 teams now; but if they all knew we were 
 coming down in a steady string, they d 
 keep out of the way, and do their sledding 
 only when the coast was clear. What do 
 you fellows think?" 
 
 "Good enough!" "That s the way !" "All 
 right!" cried the crowd, in various voices, 
 but with one mind. But when the exclama 
 tions were over, Tip tilted his sharp face a 
 bit and said : 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do while 
 Nell is getting down hill? Sit in the snow- 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 319 
 
 drift there at the depot and rub your ears? 
 Strikes me it s better to turn around and 
 climb back, and keep warm, stead of wait 
 ing- there half an hour to freeze. And 
 s posing some team that didn t know about 
 our all comin down together was to get in 
 the way? Then we d be apt to get tangled 
 up with each other and go to smash." 
 
 "Huh!" retorted Mat, sharply; "I guess 
 you re scared. But you don t have to join 
 us. If the rest say to go in, I guess we can 
 get along without you. What do you say, 
 fellows? Shall we do it?" 
 
 " Course we will!" was the chorus; and 
 Mat looked triumphantly at his rival for 
 there was no denying that Mat reckoned as a 
 rival, and therefore a foe, anyone who didn t 
 agree with him, as Tip generally did not. Tip 
 returned the glance coolly and answered : 
 
 "Why, you fellows do as you like, of 
 course I ain t bossing you. But you can 
 count me out from any such goose-tag as 
 that." 
 
 "We wouldn t have you anyhow!" cried 
 Mat, nettled at this comparing them to a 
 flock of geese waddling one after the other. 
 "We don t care to have any traitors in our 
 crowd." 
 
 "Yah, you old Rebel!" piped little Bill 
 Burpee, taking his clew as usual; and sev- 
 
320 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 eral others echoed what was then the most 
 dreadful word in our vocabulary. 
 
 "I ain t a Rebel, and you know it!" Tip 
 answered, warmly. "I guess my father s 
 fighting- as hard as any of yours and he 
 ain t staying- home to tend grocery stores, 
 like Mat s!" with which parting- shot he 
 walked off scornfully and quite alone. 
 
 I can hardly understand now why we 
 were so unjust to Tip. He had more in 
 him than any other boy among- us, was less 
 selfish, more trustworthy and a better 
 friend than ten Mats, and had done each of 
 us no end of boy-kindnesses, instead of 
 using- us as cat s-paws for his own ambition. 
 
 But just because he had "played Rebel" 
 for a few days solely to put a little life into 
 the war, the boys were "down on" him. 
 His followers in that campaign we made no 
 note of and harbored no grudge against. 
 
 Perhaps there was wounded vanity in 
 the recollection how nearly his superior 
 g-eneralship had routed our superior forces. 
 So unreasoning: are early prejudices that I 
 presume a few of us never did quite g:et 
 the last grain of grudge out of our heads 
 unless, perhaps, fifteen years later, when 
 Mat was clerking in his father s store, and 
 word came of the death of Capt. Tip in 
 Arizona. He was slain by the Apaches 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 321 
 
 after an heroic fight which saved an immi 
 grant party till the arrival of troops enough 
 to scatter the red fiends. 
 
 Well, Mat s plan progressed famously. 
 A small army of us, with brooms and 
 shovels, worked over that mile and a half of 
 road till the coast was in such good shape 
 as no one ever dreamed of before. 
 
 The weather stayed obstinately cold; so, 
 under Mat s direction, we brought water 
 by the bucketful and wet down the safer 
 parts of the slide. There was some friction 
 about this, for the older people objected to 
 so much glare ice; but Mat compromised 
 by not wetting the street crossings, and 
 only a narrow track at the side of the road, 
 so that sleighs had plenty of room without 
 encroaching on our slide. 
 
 At the tannery corner we made a crescent 
 of hard-packed snow, with sloping con 
 cavity, which rendered it rather easier to 
 turn that dangerous angle. It was like the 
 raised rail on the outside of the railway 
 curve, or the "saucer-edge" of an auto 
 mobile race-track. 
 
 And then came the marshalling of the 
 clans. Our embryo Napoleon, of course, 
 was commander-in-chief, and his pride, the 
 double-runner "Avalanche," led the line. 
 There were in those days but half a dozen 
 
322 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 other double-runners in town. These were 
 owned by young- men. Mat s was the only 
 one in "our crowd." It was a very fancy 
 affair for then and there. 
 
 Right-hand-man Hunt was privileged to 
 manag-e the rear, and the coveted remaining- 
 seats were occupied by g^uests of passing 
 invitation. 
 
 It was no small social power to control a 
 double-runner, and Mat made the most of 
 it, giving- rides to all his friends with great 
 princeliness. But I remember that we 
 never saw on Mat s "traverse" any of the 
 urchins from the lower end of the village 
 they had no "influence." 
 
 Behind the "Avalanche" came sleds of 
 all sorts and sizes. As for Tip, no one had 
 seen him for several days. He lived up on 
 the other hill a hill even steeper than 
 Dolloff s, but coming- in with such an ug-ly 
 turn at the engine-house that no one coasted 
 there since big- Ned Green broke his neck 
 on a wood-pile around the bend. 
 
 The great Saturday came for the formal 
 inauguration of the Cannonball Railroad. 
 Sixty-odd boys were g-athered at the top of 
 Dolloff s Hill. Some girls were there, too, 
 with their high, flat-runnered sleds, upon 
 which we looked with supreme scorn. 
 Kitty White and Annie Waters and May 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 323 
 
 Thurston were comfortably tucked up on 
 the cushioned seat behind Mat on his 
 double-runner; and Hunt was holding- back 
 on the tail-board till the signal. 
 
 "All ready go!" yelled Mat. Hunt 
 sprang to his seat, and the sled slipped 
 away, gaining- momentum swiftly. Charlie 
 White flung himself on his long cutter and 
 was at its heels; and one after another, in 
 continuous line, the whole array of boys on 
 their sleds went sweeping down the hill. 
 
 Just as the last of us were whizzing by 
 the engine-house, there was a shrill yell, 
 and a dark flash from the other arm of the 
 "Y" of the roads shot alongside in a swirl 
 of snow-flower, and was past almost before 
 anyone could crack a wink. 
 
 All we were sure of was that Tip and a 
 party had gone by us, but how, or on what, 
 no one knew. Anyhow, it was just like 
 him. No one but Tip could have turned 
 that lopsided corner in that way, and grazed 
 safely within two feet of us. And one 
 after another of the brown line ahead, we 
 could see this astounding meteor picking 
 up and passing them all. 
 
 Mat was right on the town bridge, steer 
 ing his grandest to cut a fine curve through 
 the square, when he caught that odd singing 
 of tempered runners. Before he could 
 
324 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 turn his head, Tip streaked by without a 
 glance, doubled the corner with a beautiful 
 swing, and was out of sight on the next 
 pitch when the "Avalanche" turned into 
 the square. 
 
 Tip on a double-runner! and one with 
 wings, too, to judge by its speed ! And Lou 
 Berry and Kate Morris and Amy Belle and 
 that pauper Okey boy with him, and that big 
 Brown behind it was altogether too much ! 
 When we got to the bottom of Depot Hill, 
 Tip and his party were starting back, 
 dragging the new craft. It was a very 
 heavy double-runner, with a long, springy 
 plank of ash, set rather low. There was 
 no paint on runners or deck, but everything 
 about the sandpapered wood had a clipper 
 look, and the runners were shod with steel 
 rods of an odd spring. 
 
 " Where d ye get it, Tip?" "Ain t it a 
 whaler?" " Lemme go down once with 
 you, Tip!" cried such of the boys as could 
 catch up which was not so difficult, as old 
 Nell was dragging our sleds. Tip trudged 
 on, answering composedly: 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Brown and I got it fixed up. 
 Course you can go, one at a time we ve 
 got room for just one more." 
 
 But just then Mat whose heavy sled 
 went farther than our light ones overtook 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 325 
 
 us. No doubt he felt pretty sore over beingf 
 so egreglously beaten at his own game ; and 
 his look was anything- but amiable as he 
 observed, loudly and in his most scornful 
 tone: "Huh! We feel pretty smart with a 
 Rebel double-runner, don t we?" 
 
 Kate and Lou flushed up, and Brown 
 stuck out his lip contemptuously, but Tip 
 only answered, drily: 
 
 "No-o, not so awful smart just smart 
 enough for what we need." 
 
 This was fuel to the fire. Mat, who was 
 much the heavier of the two, stepped for 
 ward ; and very likely there would have 
 been a scene, except that the good old 
 minister just then stopped his sleigh for a 
 chat with some friends, the boys. But Mat 
 had clinched a nickname, and Tip s turnout 
 became in every mouth "The Rebel Double- 
 runner." 
 
 Nor did it stop there. An organized 
 movement in which Mat was far too 
 shrewd to let himself be* seen, leaving- it to 
 his younger followers was made to cut 
 (boycott, as we would say nowadays) every 
 one who had anything- to do with Tip. 
 
 Brown evidently didn t borrow much 
 trouble about the scorn of boys so much 
 younger than himself; and whatever Tip 
 may have felt, he said nothing-. 
 
326 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 But Kate and Lou felt it keenly, for even 
 the sisters of the camp were enlisted to 
 make thing s unpleasant for "all who gave 
 aid and comfort to Rebels." But, as they 
 were loyal and plucky girls, they stuck 
 to their friend in a fashion that was 
 rather heroic, considering- the heat and the 
 meanness of youthful partisanship. I trust 
 that for the many shabby turns done them 
 they found some recompense in the regu 
 larity with which, day after day and many 
 times a day, they whizzed past their envious 
 persecutors. For Tip had left no gap in 
 his plans. The Rebel double-runner was 
 safe to win every time thanks partly to its 
 superior construction, partly to the dan 
 gerous hill on which it got its headway, and 
 partly to the tremendous send-off given it 
 by that hatefully muscular Brown. 
 
 Besides, Tip had a perfect genius as a 
 steerer the genius of effort and fixity, 
 which counts oftener than any other kind. 
 He seemed afraid of nothing, because he 
 really "saw his way through." He had 
 studied that slide in every inch, and knew 
 how to give his sled every advantage of it. 
 
 It was an aggravation almost beyond endur 
 ance to have them flash by us so easily every 
 time; but for all Mat s efforts and schemes 
 and our wild jockeying, they continued to do 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 327 
 
 it. If the continued triumph of the Rebel 
 double-runner was aggravating* to us, it was 
 gall and wormwood to Mat. The thing- be 
 came a town joke; and older folks, whodid not 
 share our grudge against Tip nor our awe 
 of our "Napoleon," poked all manner of fun. 
 
 Suave, self-satisfied, Mat grew glum and 
 snappish. Those of us who ventured to 
 ride with Tip and it must be confessed 
 that our patriotism was not always proof 
 against the temptation were made to feel 
 the weight of Mat s displeasure. Our 
 "leader of men" had not quite learned to 
 lead himself. 
 
 As we trudged up with our sleds from 
 the depot one afternoon, we caught sight of 
 Tip s outfit whisking around the tannery 
 corner and bearing down like a streak of 
 dark lightning. 
 
 Mat was ahead, talking hard to young 
 Burpee, who had a long red-bark switch in 
 his hand. Just as the flying traverse was 
 close, the young imp flung his stick down 
 across the road. 
 
 Quick as thought we saw the act and 
 that Tip saw it, too. He slid back, with 
 feet braced hard on the crosspiece, and 
 swung the sled a trifle to the right. 
 
 He was pale but not half so white as 
 Mat, who stood glaring at him like one fas- 
 
328 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 cinated. It was right on the last bridge, 
 over the big- fall that old wooden bridge 
 with its crazy railing! 
 
 We were too horror-struck even to cry 
 out, and there was no sound from the white 
 faces on the sled. I can remember yet how 
 the great falls roared, as out of a dead 
 hush; how Tip s teeth showed, and that 
 the steering-rope was sunk deep in his 
 wrists. How many things made themselves 
 seen and felt in that instant I 
 
 The sled struck the slender switch 
 exactly square. We looked to see its occu 
 pants fly off into space; but, though Tip 
 was snapped forward until his knees 
 bruised his face, those wiry legs saved him 
 and the rest, who were half piled upon him. 
 
 The flying ends of the switch told the 
 story. Tip had steered upon the slenderer 
 end, and the swift, high-tempered runners 
 had chopped it in two, as was his hope, and 
 without too great a shock. 
 
 Had the switch resisted never so little! 
 It seemed to us and does to me yet 
 almost a miracle of escape. But for Tip s 
 instant wit, the whole party would have 
 broken their necks on the hill, or crashed 
 through the rail to the falls. 
 
 That day broke the back of the Cannon- 
 ball Railroad. No one would so much as 
 
The Rebel Double Runner. 329 
 
 look at Burpee ; but we felt that the respon-. 
 sibility rested further back. 
 
 Of course, Mat had not told him to throw 
 the switch, and doubtless made himself 
 believe that he had no blame in the matter. 
 But the rest of us well, even boys some 
 times know how to read between the lines. 
 
 Tip never opened his mouth about the 
 matter, and promptly stopped any at 
 tempted reference to it. He had plenty of 
 companions now, and treated them in his 
 square-toed boy way, as though nothing- 
 had ever happened. 
 
 A week after the switch episode, the 
 crowd, including Tip, was straggling up 
 the hill as Mat and his few remaining satel 
 lites came down on the "Avalanche." Just 
 as they reached the grist-mill, a loaded 
 wood-sledge stalled at the tannery corner 
 the snow was soft that day. The sled 
 was, for the same reason, not going half so 
 fast as usual, but quite fast enough. Seeing 
 the dangerous passage thus blockaded, Mat 
 began to get panicky, and the sled wobbled. 
 
 "He s going to jump!" exclaimed some 
 one. "Don t!" 
 
 Tip flung his sled-rope to me. "Hold to 
 her, Mat!" he yelled, standing at the very 
 edge of the slide and balanced, catlike. But 
 Mat did not hold on. The "Avalanche" 
 
330 The Rebel Double Runner. 
 
 slewed to one side, and he leaped and went 
 plowing 1 and rolling- fifty feet in the slush. 
 Almost as he struck the road, Tip had flung 
 himself headlong upon the steering-seat 
 and caught the lines. 
 
 He was just in time to "snub" the front 
 sled before it could "turn cross" and make 
 a wreck; and, steering through the narrow 
 space between the wood-sledge and the 
 bridge-rail, he fetched up safely with the 
 traverse and its four frightened boys on 
 the grade that climbs to Water Street. 
 
 That settled the business. From that 
 day out, I think no one was ever heard to 
 mention anything that sounded like "Rebel 
 double-runner." It was "Tip s Tornado," 
 and there wasn t a boy in town, except one, 
 but was glad to ride on it or to follow Tip 
 in anything. It was the quietest of victories, 
 but complete. 
 
The Balsa Boy of Lake Titi-Caca 
 
The Balsa Boy of Lake Titi-Caca. 
 I. 
 
 4i T)UT, hombrote, thou art a mouthful, 
 
 JD and the lake is brave. Of me it 
 counts not, but much eye to this box. That 
 is the far-looker that makes the pictures, 
 and if it went to the bogas or were even wet, 
 how couldst thou answer?" 
 
 "There is no care, Excellency. More 
 than that I am small, in this lake I was born, 
 and now I am made to it. I will not drown 
 your Excellency, nor more wet ye than 
 must be when the lake is so. Trust me, 
 viracocka, to put you to the island safely. 
 And if not then name me Bobo." 
 
 Well, I had to get across, and that was all 
 there was to it. The island was there, I 
 here, the miles of angry water between, and 
 for bridg-e, only this twelve-year-old Aymara 
 boy with his water-logged balsa. I looked 
 out at the whitecaps, then at the unlikely 
 craft, then in Pablo s eyes. 
 
 "Ba-le, it is well. Thou hast the heart of 
 a man. Hold her level for the box." 
 
 333 
 
334 The Balsa Boy 
 
 I waded out through the mud and rushes, 
 waist-deep in the icy water, holding the 
 precious camera box on my head, and be 
 tween us we got it safely stowed abaft the 
 beanpole mast. Then I scrambled aboard 
 as best might be, with Pablo s helpful hand 
 in my collar, for the mud had a trap-like 
 clutch on my legs. Bidding me squat for 
 ward, the boy settled back on his knees and 
 began to ply his pole. The loftiest great 
 lake in the world has no timber on its shores, 
 and with the mighty forests of the Yungas 
 five days off no one is going to think of pad 
 dles. Plain contorted poles of the iron cupi 
 are far more easily brought over the Andean 
 passes, and they have to suffice. 
 
 Slowly, with Pablo poling into the mud 
 behind, the clumsy balsa slid through the 
 totora, whispering as it went with its brother 
 rushes for itself was simply a great bun 
 dle of totora, totora bound, with totora sail 
 and sheets. There was no other thing 
 about it; no nail nor cord nor wood, save 
 only the cupi mast. The mossy tangle of 
 yachu, which feeds the cattle of Titicaca 
 that graze all day shoulder deep in the lake, 
 hampered the soggy prow and fastened 
 upon Pablo s stick. Sometimes, with that 
 and the grasping mud, I looked to see him 
 dragged back overboard. But he wagged 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 335 
 
 the pole sharply and held fast with his 
 knees, and always shook free. Decidedly 
 his eyes were right the boy was no 
 mouse. 
 
 In ten minutes we pushed our nose 
 through the last totoral, and were in the 
 open. The wind butted the harder in our 
 face; the waves no longer tamed by the 
 rushen breakwater of the inshore came 
 running at us like a stampede. The slow 
 prow kicked them and stumbled on them 
 and pounded them into a coarse rain that 
 pelted hard and icy. I wriggled out of my 
 coat of oiled horsehide and bound it over 
 the camera box to protect that from the 
 spray for it had been well strained by a 
 fall of the pack mule in crossing the pass 
 of Sorata, and was no longer so waterproof 
 as might be wished. Pablo could now no 
 more touch bottom ; and kneeling a little 
 higher and a little farther astern he kept 
 his pole ish-ishing through the water, pad 
 dle fashion. 
 
 "Give me," I said, after watching awhile 
 the play of the round boy-chest. " Thou 
 art too light." 
 
 But Pablo sent down his stick the harder 
 so forcibly, indeed, that the effort pulled 
 that corner of his mouth awry and 
 grunted : 
 
33 6 The Balsa Boy 
 
 "No, viracocha; leave me. Your Excel 
 lency knows the paddle that I can see by 
 the way you sit. But this is different. 
 Only we of the lake know its ways, which 
 are tricky. See, pues! " he sputtered, as a 
 bucketful of water slapped us in the face 
 and left both gasping-. "For here all the 
 winds quarrel from everyway at once as 
 if pushed by him who was once alcalde of 
 Paucarcolla. " Pablo crossed himself, there 
 by "dropping- a stitch " in his paddling-. 
 
 "What? The er him that the Inqui 
 sition pursued?" 
 
 "*SV, viracocha, that same. And yonder 
 headland is where he disappeared in the 
 lake, for the which none care to tarry there, 
 since it is well known that he was the devil 
 in person," and Pablo crossed himself 
 ag-ain. 
 
 As we cleared the Punta del Diablo the 
 wind smote us with renewed force, and with 
 every dip a fresh deluge drenched us to the 
 bone. But for a few moments I did not 
 think much of that. With the recession of 
 the headland the long line of the Bolivian 
 Andes came marching into view, and I sup 
 pose that just so wondrous a sight is no 
 where else. Captained by the peak that 
 overhangs Sorata, the giant file stood mar 
 shaled seemingly upon the very beach of 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 337 
 
 the vast blue lake, itself white with that 
 unspeakable whiteness such as befalls no 
 other thing- on earth than a far peak of eter 
 nal snow high up a clear sky. Such a rank 
 of Titans from incalculable Ilia mpu and 
 his 25,000 feet, off to where his rival, Illi- 
 mani, seemed soaring- out of the lake a hun 
 dred miles away ! It was enoug-h to make 
 one forg-et a wet skin and even the pos 
 sibility of a wet camera box. How they 
 possessed the firmament, these sublimated 
 presences! And how the cumuli, puffing- 
 up from the tropic forests of the Beni, tan 
 g-led about their feet and wreathed upward 
 and dulled when their snow-whiteness 
 lapped the whiter snow of those proud 
 crests! 
 
 A sharp "Umpss!" from Pablo recalled 
 me to shiver and to look back. A sudden 
 flaw in the wind had caug-ht his stroke with 
 the full weig-ht of the balsa, and the iron- 
 wood pole had snapped under the cross 
 strain. Pablo looked anxious, but said very 
 evenly : 
 
 "Pss! We must break it off, viracocha, 
 and use each an end ; for in this wind if we 
 keep not our head, even a balsa will not last. 
 Being- angry, the lake pounds as one with 
 his fist." 
 
 Indeed, it was more like that than any- 
 
338 The Balsa Boy 
 
 thing else and a most reiterant fist, too. 
 Nowhere else is there such a "chop" as on 
 Lake Titi-caca when the winds awake; and 
 I have seen those who have weathered every 
 sea and who laughed at the English channel 
 turned deathly seasick on one of the wallow 
 ing little steamers that run from Puno to 
 Chililaya. Now we were kicked about with 
 battering thumps that seemed like to pound 
 our bundle of rushes asunder. Pablo was 
 straining and twisting at the broken pole, 
 to part the wiry fibers. I chopped at it with 
 my heavy, keen bowie, and at last the stub 
 born strands yielded; and so each had a 
 stick some five feet long. I knelt up and 
 drove mine fiercely down the side while 
 Pablo, astern, kept stroke. We were at it 
 none too soon. At one time I half fancied 
 that we never would get her head to the 
 wind, for the soggy craft answered slowly 
 to our eiforts with these pitiful paddles. 
 
 For some minutes we tugged in silence. 
 At an altitude of 12,500 feet in Peru one 
 needs all one s breath for work even the 
 Serrano lad did. I glanced over my shoul 
 der at him now and then. His lips were 
 shut square, his serious dark eyes seemed 
 to be taking note of everything, and the 
 slender muscles of his arms and chest 
 clear drawn on the drenched shirt played 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 339 
 
 smoothly. An athlete myself, and particu 
 larly taught in the paddle, I began to feel a 
 respect which was half awe for this manful 
 stripling- who toiled so soberly and shrewdly 
 where only the best foreign lungs can en 
 dure any exertion whatever. And, at last, 
 little as there was breath to spare, I could 
 not help grunting, "Estds lo mas hombrote!" 
 
 Pablo s big white teeth shone for an in 
 stant in a sober smile. 
 
 " So must we, "he answered calmly. "For 
 here is much to do, nor room for lazies 
 for small though they be. When I was the 
 half of this, my father had me to help on the 
 balsa; and once, even then, I took it to 
 Puno, he being sick." 
 
 Then silence fell upon us again for a time, 
 and we poled away doggedly. But presently 
 there seemed to me something wrong in 
 Pablo s quiet, and I twisted my head to look. 
 His stick was going steadily as a machine, 
 but in his face was what made me call out 
 sharply, "What thing?" 
 
 He thrust out his chin toward Illampu. I 
 looked thither, and then back at him, uncer 
 tain. 
 
 "More wind, * he said, concisely, "Either 
 to get to the island before it, or " and the 
 Spanish shrug said the rest for him. 
 
 We did not get to the island before it 
 
340 The Balsa Boy 
 
 Two hundred yards away the gale struck 
 us and flattened the balsa into the waves 
 and the waves into the level, and was like 
 to strip us bodily from our soaked craft. 
 After that nothing- was very clear, for the 
 winds and waves washed us fore and aft, 
 and it was hard to say which was the colder 
 and more pitiless; and one saw ill for that 
 bitter pelting- in the face, and the heart 
 reeled with overwork to feed the leaping 
 lungs. Bent forward till our heads almost 
 touched the balsa, our knees wedged hard 
 on the tiny roll which served for gunwale, 
 we dug away mechanically with those 
 nightmares of paddles that would carry 
 us nowhere. Once, when my heart would 
 work no more, I turned idly to Pablo. His 
 face was gray with effort, but so sweet and 
 composed that I shouted out, half petu 
 lantly : 
 
 " Ea! Hast thou not fear, hijito? " 
 "How not?" he screamed back up the 
 wind. * Am I a fool, not to fear ? We shall 
 never come there, perhaps. Only if the 
 saints will! Promise a silver candlestick, 
 seiior! " 
 
 But in my eyes were a blue eyed baby and 
 her mother, five thousand miles away, and 
 for that, my temper was more to fight, with 
 shut teeth, than to be vowing candlesticks. 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 34 l 
 
 And just then it struck me to think, in that 
 silly maundering- of the mind in stress, 
 how peaceful Pablo would look when they 
 should pick us up, and how they would add: 
 " UmpssI But these gringos are of ill tem 
 per, no? " 
 
 For half an hour, perhaps, we doubled to 
 our sticks, and still the gale smote us, and 
 still our marrow ached with the chill of the 
 spray. There was no complaint of Pablo. 
 He accepted fate, but still worked like 
 a man poised and steady in the face of 
 death. If we were to end there, he would 
 be found with the little chapped fists still 
 clenching- the stick. Once a motion swept 
 on me to spring- back and hug- him and say: 
 
 "Son, it counts not. Let us meet it in 
 peace. Thou rt fit to die with 1 " 
 
 But then ag-ain the blue eyes came up in 
 the mist, and my fingers cracked on the 
 paddle and my teeth grated. And Pablo, as 
 if he understood, g-ave me a grave, sweet 
 nod. Further I noted that he drew some 
 small object from his pouch and seemed to 
 breathe on it. 
 
 It was so near ! In a little eddy of the 
 wind I shook the water from my eyes and 
 peered ahead. The northern point of the 
 island was not fifty yards away and we 
 were drifting past. It slipped and slipped, 
 
34 2 The Balsa Boy 
 
 for all I dug savagely at the paddle and 
 Pablo quickened his stroke with the first 
 groan I had heard from him. Our tired 
 arms forgot their cramps, our lungs their 
 " stitches" in a wild strain and still that 
 dark shore kept drawing to our right. Ah, 
 for the old paddle that used to spin the 
 birch canoe! These accursed sticks 
 why, one might as well paddle with a poker! 
 
 " Viracocha ! " The boy s shrill voice 
 split the wind like a fife. " The sail ! " 
 
 I stared at him stupidly an instant. 
 " Thou hast the power, " he cried. " Break 
 it! Break it!" 
 
 Then I knew, and leaped upon the iron- 
 wood mast as a wolf at the throat of a fawn, 
 and clenched it and wrenched and beat, and 
 shoved and twisted and tugged, and with 
 arms and knees tore it loose from its step 
 ping in the balsa. It well nigh racked the 
 rushen raft in twain, and we noticed that 
 the impact of the waves no longer shook 
 the balsa as a unit, but wabbled and see 
 sawed it. 
 
 I caught the cupi under my left arm and 
 clinched tight the "sheets" of braided 
 totora around the totora sail, till that was 
 bound in shape something like a closed um 
 brella, and springing forward to my station 
 stood and plied this new paddle with frantic 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 343 
 
 energy. It was unwieldy and floppy, but 
 it had more resistance than the pole, and 
 slowly so slowly that at first we dared not 
 believe it the sullen craft began to an 
 swer. New hope came in us, and we shouted 
 " Arrel Drive ! " and bent till the muscles 
 creaked. Now, even in Pablo s face, was 
 the fierce light of combat. 
 
 And so we made the shore. In the lee of 
 the point the water was so still that it 
 seemed a yard lower than its surrounding- 
 level. A lone tuft of totora grew near the 
 shore, and when we came to it I fell on my 
 face along the balsa and clutched the pithy 
 stalks ; and there we lay at that frail anchor 
 age till heart and lungs came back in me. 
 Then, poling nearer, I stepped over the side 
 and landed the camera; and came back and 
 gathered in my arms a limp bundle, whose 
 head drooped upon my shoulder, and so 
 waded heavily up the beach of Sicuya. 
 
 II. 
 
 There was nothing on the island for a 
 good fire indeed, in all that vast plateau, 
 so lofty and so cold, one learns the art of 
 shivering to perfection, for fuel is enor 
 mously scarce. After an hour s work I 
 had assembled a tiny heap of dry rushes 
 from the beach, and bunch grass and a few 
 
344 The Balsa Boy 
 
 straggling bushlets. The tinder, in its oil 
 cloth pouch, with the flint and steel, was 
 dry, and presently we had a swift, ephem 
 eral blaze. It was nothing- to dry us, but 
 served briefly to toast our hands and feet 
 and take off a little of that ghastly chill. 
 The camera was all right, and I resumed 
 the horsehide coat, buttoning- it to my chin 
 to pay for the woolen shirt which I had lent 
 Pablo. As the darkness came on our poor 
 little fire died away. We scraped a trough 
 in the gravel and lay down in it spoon 
 fashion, my arms around Pablo s chest, and 
 so wore out the night. 
 
 We were chilled and stiff and half inani 
 mate when the sluggard sun peeped over 
 the far peaks of Apolobamba, and got up 
 like old men. But even the light was cheer 
 ing; and presently a soft glow began to 
 tame the bitter air and we ran clumsily and 
 danced about and swung our arms till the 
 blood went free again in its forgotten chan 
 nels. Pablo was all right now a boy is a 
 hard thing to kill, and particularly an out 
 doors boy and chatted leisurely and calm 
 ly, as was his way. 
 
 "But to eat!" I broke in on one of his 
 stories, when we were fairly limbered up 
 in body and mind. "Is there gente on the 
 island?" 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 345 
 
 "Nobody. I think the Ancients were 
 here once, for up yonder I have seen a 
 strong- wall. But none come here now 
 not even seeking- treasure, which must be 
 here." 
 
 "Bother the treasure! What we want 
 now is food, even if it were only llama 
 meat ; for in purity of truth I m falling 
 with hung-er. Let us hunt." 
 
 " There will be ducks, pues> over in the 
 cove. Vamos!" 
 
 Ducks there were, by the hundred; and 
 mudhens, and dippers, and flaming-oes, and 
 almost every other aquatic fowl, among- the 
 rushes in the eastern cove. With the shot 
 gun we could have mowed down a bushel of 
 them but the shotgun was lying with my 
 sleeping bag and rawhide muleback trunks 
 over in a hut on the mainland. Well, with 
 the six-shooter we could count on one bird, 
 anyhow; and I drew it and began to rub 
 off last night s rust. 
 
 "But wait me," said the little balsero. 
 "It is better not to frighten them, for we 
 may need more than one. With this there 
 is no noise." 
 
 As he spoke he unwound the braided 
 sling which bound his long black hair. It 
 was the immemorial weapon of his people 
 even so I had taken it from the skulls of 
 
346 The Balsa Boy 
 
 mummies of his ancestors far antedating 
 the Conquest. Pablo gathered some smooth 
 pebbles from the beach and began creeping 
 toward the cove, sheltering himself when 
 ever a bunch of totora offered. The water 
 fowl began to edge out, and a few nervous 
 ducks rose. But the boy knew his business 
 and kept on at the same gait. Suddenly 
 straightening up, he whirled his right arm 
 thrice around, and even from where I was 
 I could hear a twang, and then the sh-oo-oo 
 of the hurtling pebble. 
 
 There was a commotion among the birds, 
 and a great white swan stretched and half 
 rose from the water and dropped back in a 
 shower of spray. Pablo was already in the 
 water, keeping out of sight all but his head, 
 and in a couple of rods that also disap 
 peared. The swan suddenly redoubled its 
 struggles, beating one wing till the water 
 foamed, but without progress. Then it 
 began to drift shoreward, still fighting ; and 
 in a moment I saw a dark object rise just in 
 front of it. The swan saw, too, and aimed 
 a stunning blow with its wing. But the 
 head had already vanished and the scream 
 ing bird kept moving shoreward despite 
 his struggles. Then I waited so long that 
 it seemed impossible that one should so en 
 dure under water, when the swan s violent 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 347 
 
 pecking- at his breast relieved me. Pablo, 
 to keep out of the way of that heavy wing 
 and beak, was holding- the great bird firmly 
 down upon the crown of his head, and when 
 it was needful to take a breath he could thus 
 g-et his nose out of water without seriously 
 exposing- himself. It was when he should 
 come where the water was but a couple of 
 feet deep that trouble would beg-in, and al 
 ready I judged that he was lying- upon his 
 back and kicking- along- the mud. Time 
 after time a dark fist came up to grapple 
 that snake-like neck, but the bird was too 
 smart and the captor got only savage bites 
 for his pains. I ran out to help, and the 
 swan met me with a peck that took a mor 
 sel off my hand ; but a back sweep of the 
 bowie sent the head flying twenty feet, and 
 after a little more flopping the great fowl 
 fell limp. The missile from the sling had 
 shattered his left wing. 
 
 Well, when Pablo had warmed himself in 
 the scorching sun, and we had gathered an 
 other bunch of dry weeds and more or less 
 plucked the bird and half toasted thin strips 
 of it in the embers, and devoured each a 
 wolf s share, we felt better. Perhaps we 
 swallowed quite as much ashes as meat, 
 and salt would have helped it but it was a 
 wonderful banquet, anyhow. "We washed 
 
34-8 The Balsa Boy 
 
 it down with drafts from the ill-tasting- 
 lake, and I dried a brown-paper cigarette 
 on a sunny rock until it was smokable, and 
 for a while we wallowed in the hot sun and 
 watched the drift of shadows on Illampu, 
 which had snared all the clouds from the 
 sky. 
 
 " Pues, the pictures. And then, to get 
 back to shore," I said at last, getting- up re 
 luctantly. Pablo was greatly interested in 
 that wonderful glass in its shining tube, 
 and marveled at the unkinking of the tripod 
 and how the whole artful box opened and 
 swelled at a touch. We carried it- to the top 
 of the hill, and I made my pictures and 
 showed him the inverted gem of color on 
 the ground glass and explained it all to him 
 in the formula I learned long ago for Indian 
 friends, to whom one has to adapt one s own 
 point of view. Then he took me to the ruin 
 some fallen houses and a strong wall of 
 great rocks wonderfully squared and carved, 
 and we made a picture there, with tattered 
 Pablo standing beside the noble handiwork 
 of his fathers. Unhappily, the plate fell 
 a victim to the abominable dampness of 
 Lima. 
 
 "If we had but a spade," sighed Pablo, 
 who went scuffing his toes in the rubbish of 
 the forgotten rooms. " What says the vira- 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 349 
 
 cocha ? Shall we come back one day and dig- 
 here? For surely there will be treasure. 
 Over yonder, toward that island, is where 
 they say the Incas sunk the chain of Huas 
 car, that the Spaniards might not find it. 
 And many have looked for it, and some even 
 talk to drain the lake." 
 
 " I can see them draining- Titi-caca I But 
 come, what was this chain of Huascar? " I 
 asked, as seriously as if this were all news 
 to me. 
 
 " Mppss 1 It was of g-old, then pure 
 gold. For when Huascar Inca was born 
 his father, HuaynaCapac, ordered made this 
 chain of gold, three hundred paces long- and 
 the fatness of my thumb, that the people 
 mig-ht dance holding it. Ay, if one might 
 find it ! Sometimes, looking- over the balsa, 
 I have thought to see that shining- on the 
 bottom, but then it was only a boga turning- 
 to the sun." 
 
 "Ea, and what wouldst thou, hijito, find 
 ing- this chain of Huascar? " 
 
 " Yo? Mpps, Vuesencia, I would mppss 
 I would buy the balsa of Jeraldo, which 
 is very good ; and three pigs and a cow for 
 my mother, and a net; and >and and 
 boots like those of your Excellency " 
 
 "Good! And I hope thou It find it. I 
 mind me that an Inca, Don Garcilaso de la 
 
35 The Balsa Boy 
 
 Vega, who wrote a book two hundred and 
 ninety years ago sabes book? Well, it is 
 much paper tied together much spoiled 
 paper, with words on it. And this Inca said 
 that the chain of Huascar was thrown into 
 the little lake in the valley of Orcos, which 
 the Spaniards did indeed try to drain. But 
 Garcilaso said many things particularly 
 in December when the days are long and 
 I fancy thou rt as like to find the chain in 
 this lake as in any other." 
 
 "But the paper, se or, how can it tell 
 these things? 
 
 " Pues, because we make paper that talks 
 not out loud, but telling you things with 
 out a sound. And sometimes it knows how 
 to lie, just like people." 
 
 "Perhaps it was not Don Garcilaso s 
 fault, then it can be that he got that kind 
 of paper. For I know the chain is in this 
 lake here, of Titi-caca, since my grand 
 father told me, and he knew from very long 
 ago. He was taught in all the stories of our 
 fathers, and he gave me this auqui of old 
 for a charm. Perhaps for that we were not 
 swallowed by the lake. * 
 
 So saying, Pablo drew from his left-hand 
 pouch a precious little fetich of silver, ages 
 old, for there is no mistaking the prehistoric 
 handiwork of Peru. It was in rude human 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 35 T 
 
 form, and not cast, but hollow, beaten out 
 and cupped and soldered so cleverly that 
 one could scarce find the joint. 
 
 lt llola! He was an abuelo worth having*. 
 Come, I ll give thee ten 50/^5 for it, for I 
 shall need an auqui myself if I am to stay in 
 these lands of ill luck." 
 
 But Pablo shook his head, though I am 
 positive he never had seen so much money 
 in one pile before as the ten silver dollars in 
 my hand. 
 
 "Ha-niiva /"he said. "For it is ill to 
 sell these things, which are sacred." He 
 breathed on the image and tucked it care 
 fully back in his chuspa. 
 
 The balsa, still nodding at the rush en 
 cable, was soon repaired by Pablo s apt 
 hands with a few withes of totora. We 
 stepped the mast again, as well as might be, 
 in its torn socket, hoisted the rush sail, and 
 drew slowly out in a light breeze. It was a 
 very different passage from that of yester 
 day, and we sprawled lazily along the balsa, 
 looking back now to the vast white peaks, 
 and now to the weedy shore ahead. We 
 crept through the outer fringe of totora, 
 passing far to the left of a little stone hut 
 that seemed built upon the very water a 
 mile from shore. A few sad cattle lay about 
 it, only their heads out of water; and nearer 
 
3S 2 The Balsa Boy 
 
 us, on a submerged bar, a gristly pig- seemed 
 undecided whether he had better root or 
 swim. It was Pablo s home, he told me 
 a fair type of the pitiful swamp ranches of 
 the lake dwellers. In the shoals they build 
 their squalid huts and raise the unkempt 
 cattle which know no other pasturage as 
 their owners no other world. 
 
 When we came to the head of the bay and 
 had waded ashore with the camera, we 
 stood a long time in the mud looking back 
 at the blue lake and the dark island. I was 
 sore and hungry, and with much to do; but, 
 somehow, it was hard to turn away. Pablo 
 stood screwing his bare toes into the ooze, in 
 as little haste to be off. 
 
 "And will your Excellency come again? * 
 he said at last, catching my eye and then 
 turning away. 
 
 41 Who knows, hijito ? To-morrow I take 
 mule for the Desaguadero. Perhaps some 
 day. But much eye that thou have a new 
 balsa ready against then, for this is too old. 
 And here is wherewith to buy Jeraldo s, 
 without waiting to find the chain of Huas- 
 car. Adios, then, and un abrazo! " 
 
 He reached up to my shoulders and laid 
 his head against me with a little tug, and 
 suddenly broke away and started for the 
 
of Lake Titi-Caca. 353 
 
 balsa. Midway he stopped and turned and 
 came splashing back. 
 
 "Hear, viracocha" he said, with a little 
 uncertainty in his voice. "I could not sell 
 the auqui, for it is not honest to take money 
 for sacred things. But one who goes so far 
 as your Excellency, and in many dangers, 
 ought indeed to have one to keep harm 
 from him. And for that you that that 
 we were brothered in danger and you did 
 not despise me, now I give you." And 
 flinging the precious figure at my feet, be 
 fore I could gather my wits he was spatter 
 ing out to the balsa. Nor would he return. 
 Ten minutes later, when I looked back from 
 the hut where my things were stored, the 
 drab patch of his sail had quite faded in the 
 totoraL 
 
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